


The Gospel According to St. Matthew

by jbolle89



Series: The Gospel According to St. Matthew [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, NSFW, Post "Civil War", Sensitive Matt, Some Spoilers, gratuitous smut AND feels, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbolle89/pseuds/jbolle89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "Civil War", Steve Rogers finds himself renting a small apartment in New York, Hell's Kitchen to be exact, while he figures out what to do next. He runs into another vigilante, as well as an intriguing blind man at Fogwell's gym. his interest grows in both. </p><p>Some Civil War spoilers. Also, though Civil War was released after season 2 of Daredevil, this fic does not assume that the events in season two came first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He wasn’t even in the suit. Hadn’t worn the getup since forfeiting his shield to the devastated Tony Stark. But when Steve Rogers heard the signs of what was undoubtedly a scuffle taking place about a block down from him he couldn’t help but get involved. 

He was stuck in New York, unsure of where else to go. Well, he had nowhere else to go. He had no living family, no friends (other than Sam, Bucky opting to be frozen again), and now, no Avengers. So he spent most of his time training for whatever would come next. He wanted to be prepared, for what he wasn’t exactly sure. 

He was leaving a small, little known gym in Hell’s Kitchen, a place called Fogwell’s, having hoped he could get in a late night workout with little trouble of being harassed. He didn’t sleep much, didn’t seem to need as much sleep as others after his transformation decades ago. It was around one in the morning, he had just changed back into his street clothing and left the gym.

Steve mounted his Harley and was about to kickstart it when he heard the sound of muffled yells. Without hesitation he jumped back off his bike and took off into a sprint, following the sounds of the fight. He came to an alley just in time to see six guys turn the corner and take off down the street. Steve contemplated chasing them down, catching one and questioning him, when he heard what sounded like a trash can being knocked over in the alley the men came from. Someone could be hurt, and if so they might need his help.

He hurried down the alley, and once he passed a large dumpster he found the source of the noise. A man- a man in an outfit (another vigilante?)- sat slumped against the brick wall, chest heaving. He could only see the man’s mouth and chin, but his mouth was undoubtedly covered in blood. He had been anticipating a civilian, maybe a mugging, but this he was not expecting. 

He went into soldier mode. “Sir, I’m here to help you. My name is Steve. Are you hurt?” He asked, kneeling down to the stranger and lightly grasping his shoulder. To his surprise, the man in the suit reacted with an attempted strike, though his aim was fairly off. He swung at the air as if he were still fighting multiple men, and they were all coming at him at once. 

“Whoa!” Steve yelled, ducking back to avoid the barrage of fists. “I said I’m trying to help!” he reiterated loudly. 

The man let his arms fall to his sides, grimacing, his breathing still rapid. He was silent for what seemed like a minute, and then he began to lift himself off the pavement. “D-don’t need help-“ he grunted, his teeth shivered with pain. He managed to get himself to his feet, with quite a bit of help from the wall behind him, and Steve got a better look at his costume. Not the best, but at least it wasn’t spangled. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. It looked quite possible that the other man could fall back to the street at any moment. 

The stranger in the suit didn’t answer. His knees buckled slightly, and he braced himself on the wall again. He growled and reached for his side, fingers pressing gently at his rib cage. He growled again, deeper. Steve watched as the man seemed to be trying to compose himself- failing, but trying- and then he took a few shaky steps toward the main street, bracing himself on the dumpster. Steve cautiously followed him with each step, pretty sure that the guy was headed for the pavement. So, when the masked vigilante took one more step, shuddered, and then began to fall forward, Steve was able to catch him just before he landed face down and shattered his jaw. 

“Okay…” Steve sighed to himself, gently lowering the man the rest of the way to the ground. He weighed his options. The guy was out cold. He could take him to the hospital, but he was almost certain that the stranger wouldn’t be happy about that, given his getup. Plus, vigilantes were now under attack thanks to him and the Avengers, and he didn’t want anyone ending up in some sort of “vigilante prison” because of him. He couldn’t put the guy on his bike, anyways, he’d never be able keep him upright and steer successfully. Leaving him was, of course, not even a choice. After a moments consideration he decided the only option would be to take him back to the small apartment he had rented after leaving Avengers Tower. He pulled the smaller man onto his shoulders with ease, and carried him the twelve blocks back to his place. 

~~~

Matt Murdock awoke in an anxious haze, pain blurring in instantly. He gritted his teeth to stifle a groan, unsure of his surroundings. With some difficulty and pain he lifted a hand to his face, and was relieved to feel that his mask remained on. At least there was that. He took a few deep breaths to stave off the surging panic, and attempted to assess his location. He smelled hard wood, dusty, with a very old film of floor wax. Plaster walls. small hints of mildew. He heard multiple muffled voices of various ages above and below him, in separate rooms. So it seemed he was in an apartment somewhere. This was becoming a little too familiar. His panic resurfaced when he realized he was also picking up a heartbeat, right in the room with him. It was steady, unafraid. A criminal? One of the guys that had gotten the better of him in the alley? 

“Where am I?” He asked, trying to sound as intimidating as possible from the floor. Of course, he did want to know, but the only way to really evaluate this individual’s intentions was by talking to them. 

“You’re on 57th and 9th, and I’m Steve. You were beaten half to heck in an alleyway. I brought you here.” Said the stranger, apparently named Steve. 

Matt took in the information. He still wasn’t quite sure why the man- Steve- wasn’t alarmed. “Why?” he breathed, as he reached for his ribs again.

“I think your rib is broken, hard to tell through the outfit. You should really seek medical attention, but I had a suspicion you wouldn’t want to be taken to any hospitals. Can you stand?” Steve affirmed.

“I’m not sure-“ Matt winced as he attempted to sit up, his head spinning a little. Once he felt the room settle, he pressed on in the conversation. “Why… why didn’t you take off my mask?” he asked. 

“Why would I?” was the curt response. Matt…wasn’t sure how to answer that. He took a few deep breaths, and then moved to his knees, preparing to lift himself off the floor. A large, strong hand grabbed his arm as he shakily lifted off his feet. “Easy.” Said Steve. He took his hand away slowly, making sure that he wasn’t headed for the ground again. Matt swayed slightly, but stayed on his feet. 

“Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do but I strongly suggest you get your chest looked at. You also seem to have sustained some sort of head injury, given your lack of balance and that you blacked out.” Steve reported. “I didn’t see any puncture wounds on you, though.” There was a moment of silence, and then, “What’s your name?”

“I-I’m not-“ Matt began, but the stranger interrupted him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I mean what do they call you?” he asked. 

Matt paused, feeling very self-conscious about having such a frank and casual discussion while in the suit. “…Daredevil.” He finally answered. It sounded as if Steve shrugged. 

Matt needed to leave. This situation was becoming far too unusual. He began mentally scanning his surroundings for air currents, scents and sounds, anything that would help him find an appropriate exit route. A window? There was a very light current of chilled air to the right of him, but he didn’t know how high up he was. Jesus, he wasn’t going to just walk out the front door, was he? He turned and tilted his head as he utilized his senses, which the other man seemed to take as him looking around.

“There’s a fire escape out the window, if you’d like to leave.” Steve Said.

Matt gave a nod. The exhaustion from the night was beginning to creep up on him, and his legs felt weighted. He headed towards the air current, hoping to God he was indeed heading towards a window. Luckily, he had guessed right. He threw open the window, feeling the man’s eyes on him the whole way. There was something… authoritative about him. A cop? A soldier? Matt had never really encountered anyone like him before. He just seemed so nonchalant about the whole situation, as if none of this was new to him. 

Matt threw one leg over the window ledge, growling at the pain in his side. Steve was still watching him. He turned just before he crawled out the window, facing the direction of Steve’s heartbeat. “Thank you…” He said weakly, and left. 

 

~~~

Steve had heard the name “Daredevil” before, but he hadn’t really picked up any information about the other vigilante. The next day he went to the library, and used one of the computers to do a little research. It was fairly easy to find some information on the rumblings of “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen”, and how he had made so many criminals miserable as of late. Some photos also surfaced, though mainly of the man in a black getup that Steve liked better than the devil horns. It seemed that the man had gained quite the reputation locally. Hell, he might have fit in right with the Avengers, if they still existed. 

“Have you heard of ‘Daredevil?’” Steve asked in quick breaths as he jogged next to Sam. It was a Sunday, gray and cloudy in Central Park.

Sam thought for a moment, and then glanced over at Steve. “Another vigilante, right?” He asked, more out of breath then Steve, though Steve was hanging back so that they could have a friendly run.

Steve nodded. “Right here in New York. This city is becoming superhero capital.” 

“Yeah, well, I guess we all have you to thank for that. You’re like the great grandfather of vigilantes…”

Steve mulled it over. “If I’m the first, then wouldn’t that just make me the father of vigilantes?”

“You’re way too old to be a father.” Sam chuckled, and Steve slowed down to a stop. 

“Oh, look, I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean-“ Sam stammered. 

“No, it’s okay.” Steve responded, taking a drink of water. “I’ve said it before, I’m not the same man I was 70-something years ago. I’m not really interested in being anyone’s father. Or anyone’s husband, either.” 

Sam just nodded. “Why are you asking about Daredevil, anyways?” He inquired. 

“I ran into him last night.” Said Steve. “Well, I found him in an alley.” 

“Not very good at what he does, then.” Sam grinned. 

“Ah, I don’t know. Six guys got the better of him. He took it like a champ, anyways.” Steve recounted. “He lost consciousness, so I took him back to my place, and- “

“Wait, wait. You took him to your place? Is that safe?” Sam asked.

“I think I can take care of myself, Sam.” Steve smirked. 

“Yeah, but, we don’t even know this guy. He could be deranged. What kind of name is Daredevil?”

“What kind of name is Falcon?” Steve said, starting up a jog again. “Alright, I need to get a real work out in. See you around!” He called with a grin as he took off full speed. 

“Falcons are predators! They’re killing machines, Steve!” Sam yelled, but he figured that Steve probably hadn’t heard him anyways. 

~~~

Matt was having a late night session at Fogwell’s; it was a good outlet for him when there was no one to fight on the streets. He preferred to be there alone so he didn’t have to hold back, though the more seasoned regulars had seen him work the punching bag a handful of times and figured he had inherited some skill from his old man. 

This night, however, another individual came in after hours. Matt continued to attack the bag as he alerted himself to the others presence, listening as the man taped his knuckles and then started up on a bag about 25 feet away from him. The blows were…impressive. Deep and loud, and Matt could hear the chain attached to the ceiling beam grinding and squealing in disapproval. This guy was strong. Matt tried to focus on his own effort again, to feel the release as his muscles coiled and sprung forward with each satisfying blow, but he couldn’t help but listen to the sound of the other man’s strikes. It was almost as if the other man was holding back, as if he wasn’t expending the entirety of his force. As if he were trying not to break the damn thing. 

Suddenly, the sound of fists on thick hide ceased. He heard a fairly steady breath, only slightly labored, and then, “Hey, wanna spar?” in a friendly voice.

Matt swallowed. Yeah, actually, he did want to. But he wasn’t in his suit, and he couldn’t really let himself go when he just appeared to be some sorry blind guy. “I’m… I’m not sure I’d be much of a match in the ring.” He tried to laugh as he turned in the direction of the other man. “Blind.” He added, gesturing towards his eyes. 

There was a moment of silence as the man studied him. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.” Said the voice, taking a few steps toward Matt. “Your stance- you looked like a pro.” 

Matt cocked his head, realizing the voice was… familiar somehow. He caught a whiff of an aftershave that also prickled at his memory. Was it… was this Steve? Suddenly, Matt started to feel a panic creeping up in him. What are the odds that… was he being followed? Watched? Did this guy somehow know his identity? 

There was an uneasy silence, and then Matt cleared his throat. “Actually, on second thought, let’s give it a try.” He stated, trying to sound equally friendly instead of distrustful. 

Another moment of silence followed. “Um, I don’t… are you sure?” Steve hesitated. Clearly he was no longer interested in sparring with a blind guy. 

“My dad, he was a boxer.” Matt explained as he felt his way over to the wall and grabbed a pair of gloves. “I picked up a thing or two from him.” He smiled. He could still feel Steve’s apprehension. 

Steve nodded quietly, and then realized that the other man couldn’t see it. “Uh- Okay. Maybe just a round or two?” He said, as he headed back over to his bag and grabbed a pair of gloves himself. 

Matt climbed into the ring, and smacked his gloves together. It felt… slightly intoxicating. He suppressed a smirk. He sensed the other body climb into the ring as well, waiting for him. “Call it.” Matt said sternly. 

Steve took a breath, and then answered “Begin.” They danced around each other for a while, and it became clear to Matt that Steve was certainly not going to take the first shot. So, Matt gave him a warning punch, catching the other man’s forearms that he held up in front of him. Steve answered with a flimsy swipe to the shoulder. The blow didn’t even have half the force that Matt could sense at the punching bag, it was pathetic. He gritted his teeth, and then went in harder, attempting to show the other man that he didn’t have to be so gentle. At first there seemed to be a hint of surprise, and then a retaliation… but Steve was definitely holding back. Matt focused on his senses, gauged his opportunity, and then took a hard strike at the other man’s jaw that he tried to disguise as not quite so dead-on. Steve took a moment, seemed to be revaluating his technique, and then came back at Matt a little more forceful than before. 

Matt smirked, and this time he couldn’t hide it. This felt good. He blocked a few blows, let Steve get him once on the cheek and once in the abdomen (it still wasn’t up to the caliber of the impressive display at the bag), and then relished in his counter attack as he came at the man vigorously. He couldn’t help but savor the other man’s surprise as he came at him with multiple blows, some blocked, but a few landing as planned. Matt could feel the devil rising in his throat. He took an angry swing that landed squarely at Steve’s mouth, knowing the guy wasn’t wearing a mouth guard. He heard Steve spit, though it didn’t seem to faze him much. Maybe this guy was a pro. 

And it was then that an unbelievably strong blow caught Matt in the stomach, shocking his entire body. He couldn’t help but fall forward to his knees, his fractured rib throbbing, and he opened his mouth to breathe. At first, however, nothing came in or out. His eyes widened, and finally he sucked in a loud, excruciating gasp. Fuck, that was agony. He choked on the oxygen and the pain. 

“God, I’m so sorry!” Steve said genuinely, and he attempted to grab Matt’s arm and help him to his feet. Matt smacked away the glove, though, and then after a few wonderful deep breaths he climbed to his feet himself, his healing rib in protest. This was his dad’s territory, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to have any help getting back up. He braced himself against the ropes, waiting for the sharp pain in his side and the taste of bile at the back of his throat to subside. He could feel the other man’s eyes on him, his heartbeat elevated. 

“Are you- “Steve began, but Matt interrupted him.

“It looks like you won the first round.” Matt flashed his teeth, despite the deep ache that radiated through his entire abdomen. “Ready for round two?” He asked. 

Steve just blinked at him, his gloves at his sides. He didn’t answer.

“Ready?” Matt repeated, taking a few steps forward and holding his gloves up. He heard the other man raise his gloves as well, though cautiously. “Begin.” Matt snarled. 

This time he came at Steve even harder, getting wrapped up in the fight and letting the façade of his handicap fall by the wayside. Steve began the second round holding back yet again, and this just fueled the fury in Matt. He threw punch after punch, daring the other man, provoking him to fight back. He landed a few punches on Steve’s abdomen, trying not to be stunned by how rock hard his abs were. The guy was all muscle. Matt continued to grin as he attacked, enjoying himself more than he wanted to admit. He smelled the sweat, felt satisfied by the quickening heartbeat of the other man. He relished in the scent of damp leather, and the musty smell of the ropes around the ring. And then another smell caught his attention- was that…arousal? His or Steve’s? This distracted him, and Steve caught him on the cheek, harder than the punches he was throwing in the beginning yet still not the same level as the shot to the stomach. Matt growled at himself. He sensed an opening, and then came at Steve full force, hitting him multiple times in the face, focusing on his nose until he smelled the other man’s blood. Finally, Steve stumbled backwards to the ropes.

“I give.” Steve breathed. “What are you trying to do, break my nose?” Despite his words, he didn’t sound all that upset or defeated. Matt took a few steps back, eyes at the floor, chest heaving. He wasn’t satisfied.

“Looks like it’s a stalemate.” Announced Steve nonchalantly as he wiped his bloody nose on his T-shirt sleeve.

“W-Wait-“ Matt stammered. This wasn’t over. They couldn’t end on a tie. He hadn’t even earned his win.

But the other man had already climbed out of the ring, and without another word Matt heard him pack up his gym bag and walk out the front door. 

~~~

There was a rapping at the door. Matt listened as Karen rose out of her chair, her pumps clicking on the floor as she went to answer the knock.

“Hello, welcome to Nelson and Murdock.” She greeted their guest in a sunny voice. “How can we help you?”

“I’m looking for Matthew Murdock?” answered the visitor. And…that voice, again. Matt swallowed. 

“Sure thing.” Karen said, and before she had a chance to open the door to Matt’s office and alert him of his visitor he was out of his chair and pushing passed her.

“Hello.” Matt huffed sternly, resting his hands on his hips. 

“Hey. Matthew, right?” asked the man that was definitely Steve.

“Matt.” He corrected. “Matt is fine.” He tried to appear calm for Foggy and Karen’s sake. Inside, however, he was becoming deeply concerned. What the hell was this guy up to?

“And I’m Foggy Nelson.” Foggy interjected, shaking the man’s hand firmly. 

“I’m Karen.” Karen chimed from over Foggy’s shoulder. Both of their heartbeats were slightly elevated, and Matt was a little perplexed. Perhaps Steve was really good looking?

Steve just seemed to nod to them, and then he turned his attention back to Matt. “Hey, Matt. My name is Steve. Look, I just wanted to apologize to you for the other night at the gym…” he began.

“Um- alright.” Matt responded. “Why is that?” He tilted his head.

“I just… I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Steve added. 

Matt could tell he was trying to be genuinely nice, but he certainly wasn’t a fan of pity. “Well, you didn’t.” he stated with a strained smile. “Not really.”

Steve nodded, and then caught himself. “Okay, good.” He voiced. 

Matt nodded as well, his lips in a tight line. He tried not to blush under the heat of Karen and Foggy’s eyes. Steve started to speak again, but Matt interrupted him. “Uh- sorry, how did you find me?” He asked, his calm façade splintering.

“I just asked around the gym.” Steve answered. “Turns out there’s only been one blind man showing up there regularly since he was nine.” Matt could hear a soft smile on his lips. He wasn’t lying, though.

Matt licked his lips. “Well, thanks for dropping by. Maybe we could spar again sometime.” He said, testing Steve. 

“Um… sure.” Steve lied. He lingered for a moment, his eyes on Matt, and then sighed. “See you around, Matt,” He said, lingering even longer before he turned and left the office. 

Matt’s smile faded once he heard the door shut softly. This… this didn’t make any sense. How could this possibly be a coincidence? This was the third time he had seen Steve in a week. One time as Daredevil. There had to be a reason…

“Matt…” Foggy started, pulling Matt out of his thoughts. “That guy… do you know who that was?” He asked. 

“Just some guy I met at the gym. We sparred briefly.” Matt shrugged. 

“No, Matt… I think that was Captain America.” Said Foggy. Matt heard Karen squeal lightly, and then head back over to her desk. She started typing, and Foggy joined her. 

“Steve, right? That was his name?” He asked as Karen searched. After a moment of silence, they both began to shriek and giggle. “Holy shit, man. Steve Rogers. There’s a picture of him right here. You… you fought Captain America?” Foggy laughed. 

Matt just stood dumbly in the middle of the room, his hands still on his hips. He felt like he had been hit in the head again. 

“Matt, what were you doing fighting anyone?” Karen asked, and though she was smiling there was concern and confusion in her voice. 

“His… his dad was a boxer.” Foggy answered, nodding, as if that would provide all the information she needed as to why a blind man was sparring at the gym. “Did you win?” he added before Karen had the chance to ask a follow up question. 

“Clearly I didn’t, Foggy.” Matt replied irritably. He finally moved to face the door to his office.

Foggy nodded. “That is so cool!” he roared. 

“Well, I think it’s time to pick up some lunch.” Karen sighed. “You guys want me to grab some Thai? Or Mediterranean? Bring it back here?” She asked, grabbing her purse.

“Thai sounds amazing.” Foggy stated. Matt just nodded vaguely as he stared toward the floor. 

“Okay.” She said. “I’ll be right back then.” She strolled out of the office and down the hallway. 

Foggy waited a moment, until Karen was safely out of earshot, and then asked “Hey Matt. Does he… know about you?”

“I… I’m not sure.” He answered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Matt meet again, and find they have common ground. Their interest in each other begins to evolve. 
> 
> Some Civil War spoilers. Also, though Civil War was released after season 2 of Daredevil, this fic does not assume that the events in season two came first.

Matt felt the cool water gently tapping on his skin, a welcome comfort after a stress-induced stint of feverish boxing at Fogwell’s. He didn’t normally use the showers there, and they really only dispensed cool water anyways. This night, however, he found himself craving a soothing rinse after his outlet session.  
  
He had inadvertently avoided Fogwell’s for two weeks after the whole occurrence with Steve, Captain America apparently. He couldn’t stay away forever, though, and it felt silly to avoid the place simply because the other man might be there. Steve made him uneasy, somehow. He wasn’t sure if it was the ambiguity of his intentions, or simply that the man was much stronger and probably also better adjusted then Matt would ever be. Either way, he was both intrigued and suspicious and he didn’t like how the combination sat in his stomach.  
  
It was around midnight, afterhours as usual, and Matt kept himself alert to any approaching presences as he let the droplets prickle down his skin. After about three minutes of water that smelled like rusty copper, Matt decided he was satisfied and stepped out. He grabbed a towel from his bag and dried off, trying to ignore the slimy feeling of the tiles on his bare feet. It was then that he heard the jangling of keys outside the gym, and one was inserted into the front door.    
  
Matt swiftly pulled on his pants as he heard the heavy footfalls crossing the gym floor, and he began to button his shirt just as the visitor entered the locker room. The person paused in the doorway when he saw Matt, and Matt tried to look nonchalant. He had a feeling though…  
  
“Matt.” Said Steve. Matt thought he heard a slight kick in his heartbeat, but that was probably just because he didn’t expect to run into anyone else.  
  
“I was just on my way out,” Matt said, tucking his shirttail in, “Unless you’re ready for that rematch.” He added.  
  
Steve was silent for a moment, and then responded, “Matt… I don’t think so.”  
  
Matt’s lips curled around an aggravated grin, and he turned his face away from Steve. He was blind, of course, and he tried to tell himself not to take it personally when others treated him as such. Still, somedays he got real sick of being handled like a fragile creature. “Because I’m blind, right?” he chuckled, spite creeping into his voice.  
  
Steve was silent, again. “That’s not what this is about…” he finally answered.  
  
Matt nodded abruptly, and then took a deep breath. “Look, you- you wanted to spar. You saw that I was blind, threw me a couple of pity rounds- pulled your punches- and now you’re afraid you’ll break me. I get it.” He huffed, his eyes sharp and his nails digging into the palms of his hands.  
  
Steve dropped his head. “Matt… I just…”  
  
“I’m not a weakling, though.” Matt uttered, and he wondered why he was even bothering with this conversation. Why did it matter? “I-I’m not fragile.” He spat, willing his voice to be firm instead of shaky.  
  
“I- I don’t think you are.” Steve shook his head insistently. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t fight you…” he said helplessly.    
  
Matt could feel the other man’s distress, and the anger in him fizzled away, replaced by guilt. He wet his lips, “No, I-I’m sorry, Steve.” He sighed shakily. “I got angry… I get a little tired of it, sometimes.”  
  
Steve’s eyes were on him, studying his face. He was listening so intently it compelled Matt to continue.  
  
“There’s a part of me… I feel like I have to prove myself. Sometimes, probably too often, I do so physically.” Matt said quietly, and he was surprised to hear those words spoken aloud. Still, he continued, “If I can fight… If I can take the pain…” he flinched, wishing he had never gone down this road. Steve was quiet for a little while, and Matt began to shift on his feet nervously, now becoming too aware that he was in a locker room, bare footed, sharing his innermost feelings with a near stranger.  
  
“I…I know,” confided Steve. “I mean; I know how it feels. The reason I joined the army in the first place…” He trailed off and shrugged. “I just wanted to prove to myself that I was worth something.”  
  
Matt listened, and then nodded gently. His hair was still damp and goosebumps began to raise on his arms and neck. He decided it was time to finish getting dressed and felt for the bench next to him, sitting down and pulling on his socks.  
  
Steve leaned back against the wall, averting his eyes as if putting on one’s socks and shoes was a private moment. He crossed his arms in front of him. “Wanna get a cup of coffee?” he suddenly blurted, eyes on the ceiling.  
  
Matt couldn’t help but notice the slight kick in his heartrate as he asked. He put on his dark glasses, and answered, “how about a beer?”  
  
~~~  
  
Alright, so he definitely wasn’t a fan of motorcycles. Matt tried to steady his breath as they came to a stop, attempting to stave off a full panic attack induced by the total sensory overload of a loud, fast motorcycle ride through the city. He climbed off the bike shakily, his stomach churning, and he felt his way over to the closest solid wall to steady himself.  
  
Steve released the kick stand and turned to Matt. “Matt, are you alright?” He asked with slight alarm. He strode over to the pale, hyperventilating man to offer his help.  
  
Matt put his hand out to halt him and shook his head, willing his stomach to end its acrobatics. It was futile, however; after a couple of deep breaths he clapped his hand over his mouth and turned to face the brick wall, vomiting.  
  
Steve put his hand on Matt’s back, carefully. “Jeez, I’m- I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He said, patting.  
  
“It’s- it’s okay.” Matt spat. “I’m okay.”  
  
Steve sulked, internally chastising himself. “…. Do you want me to take you home?” He asked.  
  
“No!” Exclaimed Matt. “No… I don’t think the whole motorcycle thing works for me… my sense of balance…” He trailed. Not to mention the cacophony of sounds from the cars, the people, the deafening electricity of the city all blurring into a loud scream in his head, or the mix of smells churning into a thick paste and coating his nostrils as he passed them by so quickly.  
  
Steve was silent, and Matt could feel his distress. “I’m okay now.” Matt reassured. “Get a drink?” he added, gesturing toward the bar behind them. He vaguely extended his elbow out as he was so accustomed to doing, and Steve paused before realizing that he was meant to lead the other man into the bar. His heartbeat jolted again as he took Matt’s arm.  
  
It was a pretty empty place, not unlike Josie’s in level of cleanliness and smell, though lacking the unique clientele. Steve and Matt both ordered a lager, taking a small table in the back corner of the pub. Matt could feel Steve’s eyes on him as he drank. They sat silent for a few minutes, though it wasn’t completely uncomfortable.  
  
“I found an article about you, about the accident.” Steve admitted.  
  
Matt shifted awkwardly in his chair. Honestly, the subject made him uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. It’s… quite a story.” He replied.  
  
“You saved a man’s life,” Said Steve. “That’s pretty incredible.”  
  
Matt shrugged, and then opened his mouth to speak, but Steve interjected.  
  
“-And don’t tell me that it’s what anyone would have done, because you and I both know that isn’t true.” Steve said. “Especially that young.” He added.  
  
“Fair enough.” Matt answered quietly, taking a swig of his beer.  
  
 “I’m sure you hear a variety of questions that you get tired of answering…” Steve exhaled.    
  
“Yeah, well, I bet you do too.” Matt replied, grinning slightly over the mouth of his bottle.  
  
“I do… I think the one I dislike the most is whether or not I miss it. The 40’s.” Steve said humorlessly.  
  
Matt nodded. “Yeah- well people mean well, I think. They’re just… they’re curious. I try not to judge them for asking questions, even if the answers seem kind of obvious to me.” He said.  
  
Steve smiled softly while Matt spoke, and then he furrowed his brow. “People… they don’t ask you if you miss being able to see, do they?” he asked dubiously. Matt nodded at the table.  
  
Steve sighed. “Matt… I can’t imagine living on this Earth for nine years, being able to see, relying on my eyesight… and then losing that in an instant.” He said.   
  
“Honestly, you catch on pretty quick.” Stated Matt. “I mean, people just want to survive. Just like animals, we adapt.” He glanced up at Steve. “Now you… I can’t imagine understanding the entire world a certain way, knowing the people around you, being in the middle of a war, even, and then waking up one day, and it’s all changed.” Matt said, his voice hushed.    
  
“Well, there are certainly references that I don’t understand, pretty much daily. And I’m still catching up on my history lessons. Nowadays there’s the television shows everyone wants to talk about, the vast selection of music, the internet. I don’t even bother keeping up with that stuff, and I think most people find conversations with me a little dull.” He chuckled. “…But the people… people are always the same.”  
  
Matt took another quick swig. “I don’t know anything about the latest television shows either,” He smiled warmly.  
  
Steve grinned back at him, just as the bartender announced last call. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” Said Steve. “Can I give you a ride home?” he asked timidly. This man seemed so much less sure of himself then when Matt had first met him.  
  
"I’m not getting on that bike again, Steve.” Matt chuckled, and he could sense Steve’s disappointment. “…At least not tonight.” He added softly with a shy grin.  
  
“Alright.” Said Steve, standing. “I’ll walk you home, then.”  
  
Matt stood as well and opened his mouth to decline, to tell Steve it wasn’t necessary, but then he hesitated and heard himself answer “Okay, thanks.”  
  
Steve reached his elbow out to Matt, gently nudging him to alert him of it's presence, and Matt lightly draped his fingers over the other man’s arm. He resisted the urge to squeeze Steve’s bicep in disbelief.  Their walk back to Matt’s place was mostly in silence, Matt tapping his cane in front of him and Steve walking his Harley alongside.  
  
When they reached the front of Matt’s place they stood their quietly, awkwardly. Matt cleared his throat. “Thanks, Steve. For walking me home.” He couldn’t help but grin at how those words made him sound like a teenage girl.  
  
“Sure thing.” Steve responded. He lingered, and Matt heard his heart rate building. Was he… going to…? Matt licked his lips nervously, his own heartbeat beginning to mirror the other man’s.  
  
Steve’s heart rate reached an apex, and then he suddenly turned away. “Good night, Matt.” He said, and he quickly climbed onto his bike.  
  
“Night.” Matt responded just before the roar of an engine kicked in and the motorcycle sped off down the street. Though he felt slightly relieved, he couldn’t smother the disappointment that also began to creep in.  
   
~~~  
  
“Matthew. It’s been awhile.” Said Father Lantom, sitting in the front pew by himself as he so often was. Somedays it seemed like he was just waiting there for Matt to wander in like a stray cat.  
  
“Father.” Greeted Matt as he took a seat by Lantom’s side.  
  
“I was beginning to wonder if you threw in the towel. I’ll be honest, I was a little disappointed when you stopped showing up regularly with moral quandaries for me.” Father Lantom chuckled.  
  
Matt grinned, “I still have my demons.” He paused and shrugged. “Things have been…quiet lately, though.”  
  
“Well, what brings you here today?” Said Lantom, turning his body to get a better look at Matt.  
  
Matt was quiet for a moment, His hands twisting on the walking stick that he held in front of him. “I want to talk about the Catholic church’s view on homosexuality.” He stated.   
  
Now it was Father Lantom’s turn to pause. “…Oh?” He finally replied. He took another moment to gather his thoughts. “Well, I suppose it depends on who you ask.” He began.  
  
“Well I’m asking you.” Matt responded, and Father Lantom nodded slowly.

“I’d say that, overall… the church’s outlook on homosexuality is certainly not a positive one. There are some passages, I can’t think of which at the moment, that could be interpreted as against homosexual behavior. Like with most things, however, it isn’t clear-cut…” He trailed off, and then studied Matt closer. “Personally, I would say there are far worse things to concern ourselves with than who is sleeping with who.”  
  
Matt made no movements as he spoke, he just listened. Then, once Father Lantom had finished, he licked his lips and gave a vague nod.  
  
“Is there…someone, Matthew?” Father Lantom asked quietly.  
  
Matt shifted uneasily. “I…there’s…I’m not sure.” He said, blushing a little.  
  
“I think you know more than you’re willing to admit.” Said Father Lantom, taking note of Matt’s reddening face. “…Is this the first time… you’ve… had these feelings?” he inquired with slight discomfort.  
  
Matt contemplated for a moment, and then shook his head softly. This certainly was not the first time he’d had feelings for the same sex. Hell, when he was eight he had a best friend, Benjamin, that he had felt strongly for. He lavished in Ben’s attentions, and when their friendship ended abruptly on the playground he felt… heartbroken. He had always kept it to himself, though, sensing that his affections for Benjamin went beyond the usual friendship.  And then there was college… he had _experimented_ , probably more frequently than would be considered normal young adult curiosity. And he had always had a soft spot for Foggy, a bit of a crush on the man's voice, but he had never allowed himself to think of Foggy as anything other than a good friend.  
  
“Well, Matthew…” Father Lantom interrupted his thoughts. “You are who you are. We make choices in life, some good, some bad, and those we can and should be held accountable for. Who you are, however… that’s something you shouldn’t fight. The outcome… it’s usually quite destructive.” He disclosed.  
  
Matt sat and contemplated for a moment longer, and then raised to his feet. “Thanks, Father.” He said.  
  
“Sure.” Said Father Lantom. “Feel free to drop in anytime, Matthew. You don’t always have to be facing an ethical dilemma.” He chuckled.  
  
“I find that I usually am.” Matt smiled in Father Lantom’s direction, and then headed out the church doors.  
  
~~~  
  
Steve Rogers found the mysterious Matthew Murdock sneaking into his thoughts quite frequently, as of late. He’d be shaving in the morning, and it was, “Matt Murdock’s soft-spoken voice”. He’d be jogging, and, “Matt Murdock successfully punching me in the nose”. Lying in bed awake at night, attempting to sleep and thinking of his old days, and then, “Matt Murdock smiling”.  
  
There was something about the man that just sucked him in, swallowed him whole. He really hated to admit it to himself, but it felt like a crush. He’d never been so taken with another man before. It was true that back in his “past life” he had some concerns about his feelings for Bucky, but he had ultimately chalked that up to a healthy masculine admiration.  
  
This… he couldn’t even lie to himself about this. Matt was… just _beautiful_. Hopelessly enigmatic. There was an admirable strength in him, and yet also a softness, a goodness that gripped at Steve’s chest. He had a gnawing urge to reach out to him, to touch the man’s face. He pictured himself close to Matt, mere inches from him, sharing his warmth and ozone. So close to that inviting face, cheek almost caressing cheek, nose nearly nuzzling nose, lips just about to graze lips.  
  
Steve released a slow, shaky sigh as he felt the fever in his abdomen rising. “What is wrong with me?” he asked the darkness in his bedroom.  
  
That night, once he had finally fallen asleep, Steve had a dream that it was late in the day, summer, and he was somewhere grassy with Matt Murdock. He picked a fresh peach and handed it to him, and Matt, smiling back at him, he could see it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter is explicit. NSFW, as they say.

It had been more than two weeks since Matt joined Steve for a drink, and he was beginning to think the man had disappeared from his life just as suddenly as he forced his way in. It occurred to him that he had no way of contacting Steve, no phone number, only an address. Of course, he had been at Steve’s place as Daredevil, and that was a detail about himself he was not ready to share. He found himself slightly relieved, the whole situation had been odd to begin with. He also found himself feeling a little despondent, but that was something he knew how to handle.

So, Matt was a little taken aback when on a Thursday around 5 o’clock Steve showed up at the office once again. A knock at the door perked at his ears, and he looked up from the papers he attempted to sort on his desk. Though Foggy, Karen and he had just discussed packing it up for the day, they certainly couldn’t afford to turn away any potential clients. Matt listened from his office as the other two paused, and then one of them headed for the door. 

“Captain America, sir!” Foggy announced jovially as he opened the door. Matt’s stomach wobbled, and he prayed to god that Foggy hadn’t also saluted. 

“Thanks, but, I’m not Captain America anymore.” Steve answered solemnly. “…Is Matt here?” He asked, straight to the point. 

Matt stood at his desk, just as Foggy opened the door to show Steve in. “Um. Hi, Steve.” He greeted sheepishly. 

“Hey, Matt.” Steve responded, and yep, there went his heartrate. A grin tugged lightly at the corner of Matt’s mouth. 

“Look, I was wondering… if you’d like to get something to eat?” Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. 

He smelled like leather and aftershave as usual, and Matt found himself taking a few deep lungfuls of the concoction. “Uh... now?” Matt asked, briefly stroking his tie. 

Steve nodded. “If that works for you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Matt grinned, “…just let me finish up here, and I’ll meet you downstairs.” 

“Sure thing,” said Steve, and then after lingering a moment longer he left the office. “Nice to see you, again,” he directed at Karen and Foggy, and they both offered a cheerful goodbye. 

Matt took another deep breath, and tried to gather his thoughts. Okay, so he wasn’t expecting to see Steve again. And he wasn’t sure why he had agreed to dinner. And…was this a date? He started to pack his things up in his briefcase when he heard Foggy enter the room, shutting the door to Matt’s office gently behind him.

“Matt, should I be worried?” Foggy asked abruptly.

Matt looked up from his desk. “…Worried? No, I don’t think- why?” 

Foggy deliberated as he leaned back on the wall opposite of Matt. “Well… this is Captain America, right? I mean, I know not officially anymore, maybe… but, he is still one of the Avengers?” Foggy asked. Matt just shrugged. 

“I’m just thinking… what’s his interest in you?” Foggy continued. “Does he know about you or not? It seems… odd that Captain America, the first superhero ever, is trying so hard to befriend you, a masked vigilante. I mean, it can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

Matt licked his lips. “I don’t think he knows about me, Foggy.”

“Well how do you know?” Foggy replied. “Those guys, they know stuff. And, they’ve been recruiting. Remember that crazy thing at that airport in Germany a few months back? The giant man?” Foggy’s voice began to raise, and Matt put out his hand to quiet him.

“I just- I know.” He offered, but Foggy was not reassured. “Because…” Matt groaned, “Because he’s met Daredevil, okay? He’s met Daredevil before, and he doesn’t treat me the same way.” He paused. “And there’s also his heartrate.” 

“Um. What?” Foggy blinked. 

“His heartrate, Foggy. He…his heart races when… when he talks to me.” Matt’s ears burned red and he turned his face down to his desk, uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Wait,” Foggy said, waving his hands out in front of him, “Are you trying to tell me…that you think Captain America… has a crush on you?” He hissed. 

Matt rested his hands on his hips and shifted on his feet, shrugging lightly. 

“…And you’re… what? Interested?” Cried Foggy. 

Matt shrugged again. “I… I don’t know.” He answered quietly. 

Foggy studied him for what felt like a minute, and then finally whispered, “Matt, how do you know that this isn’t some weird test? Maybe they do know Matt Murdock and Daredevil are the same, and this is some twisted investigation.” 

Matt laughed sharply. “Foggy, come on. That just sounds-“ 

“Matt! I just don’t want see you end up wandering off the edge of a giant floating city, or something! I don’t want you to get hurt. You know that.” Foggy exclaimed helplessly. 

Matt grabbed his briefcase and his walking stick and walked over to Foggy, resting a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “I know Foggy. Thank you. But I’m going to be fine, okay?” He gave Foggy one of his most charming smiles, because those usually worked well with him. 

Matt felt Foggy relax a bit under his touch. “Okay…” Foggy answered, surrendering with hesitation. “If you think so.”

Matt nodded, and then headed out of the office.

“Enjoy your weird date, or whatever it is!” Foggy called from behind him.

~~~

Steve waited anxiously at the entrance of the Nelson and Murdock building, wondering if he had just made a mistake. This… this was weird, wasn’t it? He immediately began formulating excuses to end the... whatever it was… before it started. It was a mistake, this was actually a bad time, maybe next week. He fidgeted nervously with his hands until the door opened behind him, and he turned to see a very handsome Matt Murdock with a small smile on his lips. 

“Steve?” Matt called. 

“Uh- yeah. Right here.” Steve replied, offering his elbow out for Matt to grab onto. 

“Sorry about the wait.” Matt grinned and softly grabbed Steve’s arm. “Foggy had some business he wanted to discuss.” 

“No problem.” Said Steve. “That guy… he seems… cheerful.” 

Matt chuckled. “Yeah. He can be a little… intense for some people. He’s my best friend, though.” he paused for a moment, and then added, “So, are we going somewhere?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Steve chuckled bashfully, realizing they had just been standing there arm in arm. “I thought we could go to this place down the street… walk there. No motorcycle required.” 

“Sounds great.” Said Matt. 

~~~

They walked into the restaurant, an unassuming little diner, and took a booth close to the window. A waitress walked by, and placed two laminated menus on the table without a word. 

Steve passed one over to Matt and started to look over his. His eyes scanned the entrees over and over, and all the while he thought of what he could say to Matt. After several moments of silence, he glanced up at the other man, and realized that Matt was just sitting there, an amused look on his face. And then it hit him; Matt could not read his menu. “Oh!” Steve exclaimed, mortified. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t even think…” 

“It’s okay. Trust me, it happens a lot.” Matt grinned. 

“Well, here. Let me read it to you.” Said Steve. “Looks like they have burgers, some sandwich options, King Club and the like, some pasta choices… and breakfast all day. There are some specials, but they look…questionable. Meatloaf melt, Yankee pot roast… I’m not sure I picked the best place.” He meandered. 

“You know what, breakfast is always good.” Matt smiled. “Omelets?” 

“Yeah, they have some options. Western Omelet? Spinach Omelet?” Steve asked. 

“Western Omelet sounds perfect.” Said Matt.

“Okay, great. We’ll get two of those.” He stated, and he looked around the diner for the waitress. When she finally made her appearance he flagged her down and ordered.

“Matt, do you mind if I ask you… can you see at all?” He presented the question delicately, fearing that he might make the other man uncomfortable. 

“Um, I do, kind of.” Matt responded. “I... I see some variations of light and shadow.”

“Do you see any colors?” Steve pressed on curiously. 

“No, not really… everything is kind of… red, pulsing.” Matt confessed, feeling for his glass and taking a sip of water. 

Steve mulled that over for a moment, and then softly asked, “So what do I look like, to you?” 

Matt looked up in his direction. “…I can see some of the light around you. Like an eclipse. I can’t make out any features, though.”

Steve sat back in the booth, sighing to himself. “That sounds…intimidating.” He admitted. “Red, pulsing, dark figures... Everyone must look like a threat to you.”

The waitress came and placed their dishes on the table, and Steve nudged Matt’s plate closer to him. 

“Yeah, well, I have a knack for picking out the decent people.” Matt smiled. 

Steve grinned softly in return, replying, “I believe that about you.” He watched as Matt felt for his fork, and began to eat. He didn’t mean to stare, really, but there was something about the way Matt moved, so gently and gracefully, that he found it hard to look away. 

“…I’ve been thinking about you lately- or, your situation.” Steve hesitated. “I just wanted to ask… how do you fight?”

“Um…” Matt began, now seeming a little flustered. 

“I don’t mean that to sound… you're actually quite impressive.” Steve insisted, his face briefly flushing with the confession.

Matt was quiet for a moment. “It’s… it’s a little complicated.” He finally said. “Have you ever heard of people, or animals- they lose something, something vital? The rest of their bodies… it compensates for what was lost. Limbs become stronger, balance is realigned, sections of the brain take on more responsibility,” He articulated, his voice hushed. Steve nodded, listening intently.

“Well, I suppose it’s a little like that.” Stated Matt. “After the accident… the rest of my senses just kind of…shifted. Evolved.” 

“So, your sense of hearing became stronger?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Matt answered. “Hearing, smell, touch, taste…”

Steve leaned forward on his elbows. “Taste, too?” He asked, both curious and slightly amused. 

A grin tugged at the corner of Matt’s mouth. “Yes.” He smirked, taking a bite of his omelet. “And, I hope you don’t have a sensitive stomach, because the eggs in this are maybe just a day shy of being off.”

Steve chuckled. “I don’t have a sensitive anything.”

Matt blushed. “Is that so?” He asked softly, and the low timber of his voice caused a little jolt in Steve’s abdomen. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you as well, or, your situation.” Matt said, mimicking Steve. 

“Oh?” Said Steve, taking a drink of water and trying to ignore the stirring that lingered between his thighs.

Matt nodded. “Your… transformation. Obviously, it made you the man you are today. But… who were you before?” 

“Pretty much the same, actually.” Said Steve. “Stubborn, maybe just a little too self-righteous.” He grinned sadly, a flash of Stark’s wounded face ghosting through his mind. “Desperate to make a difference. Just, all of that in a body that couldn’t seem to do anything.”

“Hm.” Matt tilted his head. “Maybe you didn’t give yourself enough credit.” 

“I don’t know.” Steve sighed. “Before, I had a hard time finding a purpose. I tried to enlist over and over, and the army wanted nothing to do with me. I guess I always felt I was destined to be a soldier. After the experiment, after they pulled me out of the ice… my life just became a giant mission. I have a hard time focusing on anything else.” He said. He looked up at Matt, wondering what he was thinking of him now. He tried to read him, though it wasn’t easy through those dark glasses. 

Matt’s fingers fidgeted on the table and he gave a small, fleeting smile, as if he had heard the other man’s thoughts. He waited for Steve to continue. 

“…I still feel like it’s not enough, like I should be doing more. I was given this,” he continued, gesturing toward his body, “it’s my responsibility to use it to help others, until I no longer can.” 

Matt leaned forward on the table as well, his lips pursing as he thought to himself. “I’m sorry, Steve,” he finally stated, “but I think there may be more to you than just that. You may be a super soldier… but you’re still a man. Being just a soldier… there’s something easier in it, isn’t there, then being a man?”

The man’s acuity left Steve speechless. It was as if he were looking through him, and it made him feel naked and weak. Suddenly he was that scrawny boy back in Brooklyn, circa 1940. “Matt…” He said quietly, “I can’t afford to be a man. There’s too much at stake.” 

Matt looked down at the table and cocked his head, nodding lightly as if he understood. Steve watched as Matt's fingers found their way across the table, resting gently on his. He swallowed. Matt was making it pretty damn hard to be anything other than just a man, at the moment. 

~~~

Their trip back to Matt’s place was again a fairly quiet one. This time Steve had left his motorcycle at home, anticipating that he would want to see the other man back to his apartment safely. He led Matt as they crossed the streets, every so often warning him about a crack in the sidewalk or a large piece of litter that might trip him up. For the second time they stopped just outside of Matt’s building and faced each other, both of them hesitant and awkward. 

“Thanks for dinner,” said Matt. “And, thanks for being so descriptive on the walk back.” He grinned.

Steve laughed nervously, taking a step closer to Matt. “No problem.” He said softly. They were both silent, and a heavy tautness began to build between them. Steve could feel his heart positively pounding in his chest, and it made him want to retreat. How could this possibly be more daunting to him than fighting an alien army? He studied the man in front of him, his dark wispy hair, the glasses, those soft pink lips. He couldn't dodge the intrinsic urges any longer. 

“Matt… could I…?” Steve found himself whispering, his hand lifting up towards Matt’s face. Matt gave a quick nod, color blotching his cheeks. Steve stepped in even closer, tentatively, his breath trembling. He took in the man’s scent, earthy and warm. Slowly, he pushed his hand closer until he gently held Matt’s cheek, making his intentions absolutely clear and guiding the other man in. He felt the heat radiating off Matt’s blushing face, the hitch of his breath colliding with his own. 

Steve pressed his lips to Matt’s lightly, softly caressing them back and forth, and then he took a moment to assess the other man’s reaction. Matt exhaled shakily, and then pulled Steve in for a deeper kiss, pressing in hard and swiping the tip of his tongue just between Steve’s lips. 

Steve inhaled sharply and held his breath. He felt dizzy with excitement, and he shyly pushed his tongue to meet Matt’s, stroking it softly. They both came away with labored breath. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” Steve breathed, shivering softly, “I… I don’t know what it is about you…” he admitted. Matt pressed his forehead to Steve’s as he listened to the confessions. 

“Do you mind if I take off these glasses?” Steve asked, and Matt agreed with a nod. He reached up and gently slid the glasses off of Matt’s face, and Matt lifted his gaze upward, though he couldn’t quite make eye contact. 

Steve stared into the other man’s soft, beautiful eyes, an amalgam of emotions twisting in his boxy chest. He pulled Matt in by the shoulders for another kiss, smashing his lips to the other’s almost violently. He inhaled Matthew Murdock as he rubbed his hands down his back and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist. This time when their lips separated they were both panting. Steve held Matt so firmly against himself that there was no mistaking the growing hardness that swelled between their hips.

“Come upstairs.” Matt whispered, his fingers wandering down between them to graze the twitching stiffness in Steve’s jeans. Steve breathed heavily, and then nodded. They climbed the stairs quietly, Steve watching Matt’s back as he navigated the area so perfectly. He found himself unable to focus on the gender of the person in front of him, his desire the loudest voice in his head.

Once they were in the apartment Matt quietly closed the front door, and Steve was taken aback by the sight of his place. So open. So dark and lonely. It glowed an eerie purple from a massive billboard that sat just outside his window. 

“Holy…” Steve whispered.

“Yeah. it doesn’t really bother me.” Said Matt, placing his glasses on a table next to the door. He timidly walked over to Steve, stopping just inches from him, and then he raised his hands. “May I…?” He murmured. Steve nodded. 

Matt’s hands gently cupped the man’s face, and his fingers wandered over his features. He circled his eyes with the pads of his thumbs, ran his fingers down the bridge of his nose, and then rested his fingertips on Steve’s lips and chin. Steve was entranced with the look on Matt’s face as his hands worked, his lips slightly parted and his eyelashes fluttering as he formed an image in his mind. 

“Hmm…” Matt hummed provocatively in his throat, wrapping his hands around the back of Steve’s neck and pulling him in for a balmy kiss. He intricately nipped and sucked at Steve’s lips, as if he were still committing the image of them to his memory. 

With each little movement of the other man’s mouth Steve felt a tension winding deep in himself, clouding his thoughts and making him hungry for relief. He kissed the scruff along Matt’s jawline, trailing down his neck. Matt shuddered under Steve’s affection, and he felt Matt run his hands down his back and then stop to grip his behind. Steve exhaled with a groan, and he grabbed Matt’s hips to pull them tight against his own, grinding his erection into Matt’s wantonly. He felt like he was burning up inside.

“Fuck…” Matt gasped, pulling Steve in for another long kiss. His hands wandered down to Steve’s belt buckle and undid it with ease, as Steve pulled off Matt’s suit jacket. 

To Steve’s surprise, Matt suddenly dropped down to his knees, his fingers deftly undoing Steve’s jeans and then pulling down his underwear with a quick yank that released his hard cock. His head spun as he watched the other man take his length into his mouth without a moment’s pause, and the shock of Matt’s warm wet mouth engulfing him caused his knees to buckle slightly. Matt pulsed his tongue along the bottom of Steve’s shaft, and then skillfully curled it around it’s girth, just before pulling his cock entirely into his mouth yet again, so deep that his nose buried into Steve’s hair. 

Steve’s breaths were ragged and loud as he watched the man’s lovely mouth work, making him lightheaded and building the tension in him that begged for release. Matt grabbed Steve’s hips and guided them as he sucked, forcing him in and out of his mouth. Steve gently held onto Matt’s head, and he did his best not to buck violently into Matt’s throat. He took one last look down at the stunning man sucking him off before his pleasure roared to a climax, and he came with a low growl and violent thrusts, no longer able to control his hips. Matt held on to Steve’s hips, taking the force of the orgasm into his mouth, come dripping out onto the floor. The rest he swallowed. 

“Are you… are you okay?” Steve asked as he caught his breath. He looked down at Matt, and Matt just looked up at him with a playful smirk, a wet slick shining on his chin. 

Steve rumbled in his throat and pulled Matt to his feet, kissing him forcefully, caressing his face and down his neck. He backed Matt up to the couch, steadying him with a strong arm around his waist to keep him from stumbling. Matt fell back into the couch, and Steve knelt down next to him. He began kissing his neck again, licking and biting at his jawline as Matt wriggled under him. He relished in tasting the other man’s skin, loved the way Matt’s stubble felt on his tongue. 

Matt’s cock swelled impressively against his pants, and he involuntarily thrusted as Steve nipped at his neck. Steve pulled Matt’s earlobe into his mouth and sucked, and Matt moaned deep in the back of his throat. The man was an absolute powerhouse of sexual energy, reacting so strongly to the smallest of attentions. Steve reached under Matt’s shirt and fondled his chest, stroking his stomach and grazing his nipples, and Matt shook, thrusting at the air and biting his bottom lip. Steve sat there, mesmerized as he stroked the man’s flesh, captivated by the sight of Matt Murdock coming undone. It must have been absolute torture for Matt, however, as he finally grasped Steve’s hand and directed it down to his cock throbbing tight against his pants, desperately grinding against it. 

“Fuck, Matt,” Cursed Steve, his head overwhelmed with thoughts of all the dirty things he’d like to do to Matthew Murdock, and his cock hardening again. He obliged, clutching Matt’s erection through his pants and massaging, receiving another enticing noise from the man. 

Then Steve grabbed Matt from behind and pulled him close, nearly up into his lap, his arm hooking around Matt’s waist. He stuffed his hand down into Matt’s pants, finally grasping his weeping cock, and Matt arched into him with a cry. 

Steve nuzzled into his ear as he pumped Matt’s cock, Matt writhing in his arms. Matt’s hips rose and fell with each quick stroke of Steve’s hand, and his body trembled. In the back of Steve’s mind, it concerned him, even scared him a little, but the lust entrenched in him urged him to continue, to finish the other man off. 

Matt’s shaking increased until his whole body tensed in Steve’s arms; his back arched violently and he cried out as he came all over Steve’s fist, his lower abdomen and pants. After several violent shudders of intense pleasure, he collapsed back against Steve, whimpering softly. 

Steve had no words, he was so taken aback by the whole overwhelming display. He continued to hold Matt in his arms until the other man’s breath steadied and his pulse relaxed. Matt laid there, limp and completely still for several minutes. 

“Are you alright?” Steve finally whispered into the other man’s ear, his concern rising. 

“Looks like you won round three,” Matt answered weakly. 

~~~

Matt approached the office as casually as possible, mentally preparing himself for the conversation that would undoubtedly transpire with Foggy. It was Friday, the morning after his encounter with Steve, and he knew Foggy would be wanting an explanation. Indeed, it was as soon as he entered through the front door that he sensed Foggy standing next to the coffee machine, his eyes on him intensely. 

“Morning.” Matt said flatly. He walked into his office and placed his briefcase on the desk. 

“Well?” Said Foggy, trailing behind him.

“Well, what?” Matt responded with an expert naiveté. “Is that coffee?” He feigned intrigue. 

“You know goddamn well what!” Foggy stated with exasperation. “Was it a date? The thing last night with Steve Rogers?” 

“We just had dinner, Foggy. We talked.” Matt said, truly not wanting to have this conversation with the other man. In college he had been quite skillful at keeping his experiences with men a secret from his roommate, and he preferred it that way. It was not something he wanted to talk about, save for maybe checking in with his priest to see if he should be preparing for hellfire. 

“Oh yeah?” Foggy challenged him. “Where did he take you?” 

“We just walked to that diner a couple of blocks down, you know, the one on the corner.” He replied, heading into the main room to fetch a cup of coffee for himself. 

“How’d you get home?” Foggy asked skeptically, following close behind him. 

Matt cursed internally. He had promised Foggy no more lies. “He walked me back to my place.” Matt said, trying to sound as virtuous as possible as he carefully poured the coffee. 

Foggy was quiet, and Matt could hear his heartrate picking up. “Did you invite him in?” He asked, his jaw was clenched. 

Matt sighed. “What does it matter, Foggy?”

“No!” Foggy shouted. “You did? What the hell, Matt?” 

Matt braced himself on the counter, hanging his head, his lips in a tight line.

“You… you actually slept with him? On the first date?” Foggy hissed. 

“Wow, that’s really none of your business.” Matt snapped. “And anyways, why do you care? Your usually so eager for all the details.” 

Foggy was quiet, then. “Well… I guess I’m feeling a little protective of you.” He finally stated. “I mean… in this situation… I think you’re the girl, Matt.” He shrugged warily. 

It was then that Karen walked into the office. “Matt’s the girl in which situation?” She asked with enthusiasm, walking over to her desk and putting her purse down, then taking off her raincoat. 

“Matt went on a date with Captain America last night.” Foggy declared. 

Karen hesitated, a confused smile on her face as she looked between the two of them. “…What, really?” She said, now recognizing the genuine tension in the room.

“Oh yeah.” Foggy stated, “And he put out.” He sternly crossed his arms in front of him. Matt was thoroughly blushing, now. 

There was a concentrated silence in the room, and then Karen managed, “Wow, Matt… I didn’t think, I mean, I didn’t know that you...wow.” She laughed nervously. She looked over at Foggy, who still seemed determined to be cross. “So what’s the big deal, Foggy? Matt’s all grown up… right?” She nudged him with her elbow. 

Foggy shook his head. “I don’t know; I still don’t trust that guy…” He mumbled. “…did you really…sleep with him, Matt?” He asked again with unease. 

“Something happened.” Matt muttered, eyes on the floor, the heat in his face finally beginning to subside. “Look, I don’t know if I’m even going to see him again… He kind of…took off.” 

“Really?” Said Foggy, “That’s a dick move…”

“Aw, I’m sorry, Matt…” Karen cooed, rubbing his shoulder. 

“Look, I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Matt stated. “Can we just all get to work now? Please?” He poured the cup of coffee out in the trashcan and headed back into his own office. 

~~~

“Okay,” Sam huffed, “What is with you, man?” 

Steve looked up from his coffee, unaware that he had been silent for the last seven minutes. Apparently, Sam had been having some sort of one-sided discussion with him. 

They had met at a local coffee shop, keeping in touch regularly after the split between the Avengers. They were all each other had left of that life, and Steve certainly wanted to hold onto that. Today, however, he wasn’t in much of a social mood. Really, he couldn’t think of anything other than his encounter with Matthew a few nights back. Steve had left in a bit of a hurry once he sobered from the pleasure, and it had definitely not been a smooth exit. Okay, so he had panicked, actually, and he was still having a hard time forgetting the injured look on Matt’s face. Now three days had passed, no contact between the two of them. Steve was not the type to seek out a one-night stand, and Matt was worth a hell of a lot more than that. Therein lied the problem. This wasn’t just the first person he’d felt strongly for since Peggy Carter, this was a man. A man that he knew little about, yet found himself so drawn to.

He didn’t even bother trying to explain away his silence, he simply shrugged in return.

“You sick or something?” Sam started, “I mean, you’re like, immune to all manner of germs aren’t you?” 

Steve exhaled languidly, “I’m fine, Sam. Just a little distracted.” 

Sam studied him for a moment. “This is about a woman, isn’t it.” He declared. “Let me guess, Sharon Carter?” 

“No, I haven’t seen or heard from her since, well you know.” Said Steve, referring to the kiss they had shared months ago. “And, she’s Peggy’s niece… I don’t know how I feel about that.” He shook his head.

Sam contemplated a moment longer and then quietly offered, “…Is it about Bucky?” 

“I’ve made peace with that, Sam. Honestly, I’m relieved that I don’t have to worry about him for the time being.” Steve rubbed the palm of his hand over his forehead and eyes. “Look, I met someone new recently…I didn’t handle it very well.” He said, swirling the coffee in his cup that had now gone lukewarm. 

“Oh, a new lady. Well, what’s she like?” Sam inquired. 

Steve conjured up an image of Matt in his mind, the man’s smile, his eyes. “Stunning.” He breathed. Sam’s grin pulled taut, and he nodded in approval. “Like I said, I think I may have messed that up.” Steve went on. “Look, in the end it doesn’t matter, anyways. It’s best I don’t become romantically involved with anyone. I knew there would be sacrifices when I signed up for this, I’m prepared to accept them.” 

Sam’s smile faded as he spoke, and he finished off his own coffee with a fast swig. “You know what everyone says about you, Cap?” He asked. 

Steve studied him and then shook his head, “That I’m ancient?” 

“Yeah, people have fun with that. But they also say that you need to get laid.” He chuckled. “And I don’t disagree with that assessment. You’re a super soldier, sure, and you’re excellent at what you do. But look around, were not doing anything right now except for sitting on our asses and waiting for the next reason to fight. You may not like to think so, but you’re still a man.” 

Steve replayed the other night in his mind- the incredible sex, the way Matt seemed to know him, even if they didn’t know each other very well at all. “So I’ve been told.” He muttered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is revisited by Daredevil, and he is in for a surprise.

Matt kneeled forward in the dark, clutching at his shoulder and attempting to catch the blood that spilled on the pavement at his feet. What he knew for sure was that he’d been shot, fairly close range, and that he would be in trouble soon if he didn’t generate a plan to amend the situation. What he wasn’t sure of was how long he had to figure it out, as he was already beginning to feel a little unsteady from blood loss.

He had been on the chase, following a man that was part of a relatively new human trafficking ring right out of Hell’s Kitchen, and he had become so focused on that man’s vitals- tracking the sound of his clothing, breath, his scent- that he didn’t pick up the other heart beat waiting in the dark. He heard a sharp inhale, a click, and then he dove out of the way just in time to catch a bullet about an inch below his clavicle instead of in his heart. He lay there on the ground then, reeling from the shock, and sensed the man again just as he was above him; a second too late to avoid two powerful kicks to his stomach and chest. 

Surprisingly, Matt had never before been actually shot. He’d been stabbed, whipped, strangled, had multiple bones broken, a tooth cracked, and more concussions then he was probably aware of, but a bullet had never successfully found its way into his body. Now, he twisted with agony, feeling like the hot metal remained in his body and seared him from the inside out. He could taste metal, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the gunpowder or the blood in the air. 

He forced himself to push past it, to think as clearly as possible. The hospital wasn’t an option. Claire didn’t want to be a part of this, she had made that pretty clear. With cuts and stab wounds he could usually patch himself up, depending on location, but he had no idea if the bullet remained in his shoulder or not, and he wasn’t sure he could stay conscious long enough to clean and suture an entry and exit wound. Plus, if the bullet was still in there then it might have to come out, depending on the damage done. He climbed to his feet with ragged breath, still clutching at his shoulder, and headed in the only direction that he could think of.

~~~

Steve laid in bed, his eyes closed, though he wasn’t asleep. It was 3 am, and so really there was nothing better to do then pretend. He played old songs in his mind, songs from his era. He wished he had some of those records. He watched timeworn memories, saw them flicker like microfilm. From the living room came a sudden crash and then a thump; there was an intruder in his apartment. Quickly he jumped out of bed, fists clenched, and he soundlessly peeked into the living room to gain the upper hand. On the floor just under his broken window was a mass of red and black lying in a heap. It was “Daredevil”, back again.

He exhaled, more out of frustration then relief, and walked over to the crumpled form. “What are you doing here?” He whispered loudly. There wasn’t an answer. The form rose and fell quickly with short, hasty breaths.

Steve swallowed. This didn’t look good. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and dragged him over to the center of his living room, turning on a lamp to get a better look. When he released his grip he saw that one of his hands was saturated with blood. There was a hole in the man’s shoulder. “You’ve been shot?” He asked the unresponsive man. 

Steve tore off his t-shirt and knelt down, pulling the upper half of the man up into his lap for better leverage and to elevate him. He balled up his shirt and used it to put pressure on the wound. The man stirred slightly, murmured something inaudible, and then raised his hand weakly before it fell back to the floor.

_“Damn.” _Steve hissed. He gently lifted the body, trying to study the back of the shoulder. No exit wound, the bullet remained. “Can you hear me?” He asked.__

The man, Daredevil, continued to stir, but still made no answer. “Were going to have to close the wound. You’ll bleed out if I don’t.” Steve stated. He continued to put pressure on the shoulder for a little longer, and then climbed up to get his first aid kit and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. 

When he returned he figured out how to undo the armor just enough so the upper body was exposed, and he pulled the man’s shoulders back into his lap. “Sorry, but this is going to hurt,” he said, opening the bottle of rubbing alcohol and pouring it into the bullet hole. The other man immediately began thrashing, and he finally vocalized a response with a deep roaring yell. Steve pinned him down.

The man writhed, his scream spiraling into whimpers, and he reached up and desperately tore the mask off his face as if it suffocated him. Steve froze, dumbstruck by what he saw. In his lap was Matthew Murdock. 

“God…” Steve breathed. “Matt?” He pulled the man in closer and cupped his face in his hand, studying him. “What… how?” 

Matt just panted, his bottom lip shivering. He reached a hand up once again, and this time Steve took it. 

“Shh…It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He soothed. “Matt… we have to stitch you up.” His voice came out hoarse as his apprehension began to build.

He threaded the needle with a shaking hand that he willed steady, and took a few deep breaths. Matt winced and trembled as Steve plucked the needle through his skin, pained tears streaming down the side of his face, and Steve tried to ease him with an almost endless utterance of gentle words. 

Steve was no nurse, but he did his best to sew up the wound so that it could better clot and heal. He knew from his firsthand experience as a soldier that it would be far riskier to try to remove the bullet, especially if it hadn’t done any damage to the vital organs. Matt fell in and out of consciousness as he worked, his breaths alternating from rapid to restrained with each lapse. Once Steve was finally satisfied with the job he’d done he gently lifted Matt and carried him into the other room, lying him down on the bed. 

He carefully removed the rest of the Daredevil suit, until Matt laid there only in his boxer briefs. Steve studied Matt’s body, riddled with scars though beautiful it was. He could tell that Matt was not a naturally built man, his frame small and a gentle curve gracing his waist and hips. This man had worked hard for his solid physique. He had spent countless hours battling his own body’s need for rest, nights at the punching bag and on the floor doing pushup after pushup, forcing himself to do just one more. Tony Stark’s words echoed through his mind, that his own powers had come out of a bottle. 

Steve pulled a chair up beside the bed and spent the rest of the night dutifully sitting next to Matt. He watched as Matt seemed to go in and out of fits, his body tight, his teeth bared, his forehead drenched with sweat. After a good ten or fifteen minutes of this he would slowly loosen, his fisted hands relaxing and his breath steadying for another hour or so. Steve couldn’t tell if this was a reaction to the pain of the bullet wound or something else, but he knew he had to find a way to get Matt medical attention. 

When the blue light of sunrise began to filter into the room Steve decided it was time to try talking to Matt, to see if he could bring him around. He noted with concern that the man was certainly paler than he had been when he first arrived earlier in the morning. 

“Matt,” He voiced, studying the man for a reaction. As far as he could tell the words hadn’t transmitted. “Matt, can you hear me?” He tried again, a little louder. He thought he saw Matt’s eyebrow twitch, but he couldn’t be certain if that was a response to his words or the pain. 

Steve took a steady, solemn breath. “Matt, if you can hear me, then I need you to let me know.” He cupped his hand against Matt’s cheek. 

Matt rolled his neck slightly, his forehead wrinkling, and then that was that. This was not looking good. Steve’s eyes skated over Matt’s body as he briefly wondered if he missed another injury. A bullet in the shoulder, sure it would be excruciating, but there had to be something he was missing to cause this sort of incapacitation. He stood and wrapped his fingers gently around the sides of Matt’s skull, feeling for signs of a head injury. As far as he could tell, there were no bumps or lacerations. 

He peeked under the gauze that he had fastened to Matt’s shoulder. Obviously It was far too early to tell if it was healing, though he did notice a ring of red around the wound. Could be early signs of an infection, or it could just be inflamed tissue. Steve’s body healed so quickly and efficiently, this was not something that was normally of concern to him. 

Suddenly Matt’s face began to tighten again, he sucked in a pained breath, and his body began to tense and tremble, his teeth shivering behind his lips. Steve urgently placed his hand on Matt’s forehead, pushing his damp hair out of the way. The man was definitely warm. He caressed his hand down Matt’s cheek to comfort him, his own teeth clenched tight in his mouth until the tremors passed. He waited there until Matt relaxed again, and then went to grab his phone off of the dresser. There was only one person he could think of at the moment that he knew he could trust.

_“Urgent. Need a doctor who won’t ask questions.” _He sent to Natasha Romanov, praying to god that she would receive the message quickly.__

It wasn’t long before an answer arrived, reading, _“Know one just outside the city. Are you hurt?” ___

_“Not for me.” _He replied, gazing over at the pale, sweat-soaked man in his bed.__

He contemplated for a moment, and then added a second text, _“House calls?” ___

There was a bit longer of a lull, and then the response, _“I’ll see what I can do.” ___

A little over two hours passed, and Steve waited anxiously. Matt continued to tremble, and Steve couldn’t quite tell if it was happening more frequently or if he himself was merely becoming increasingly unnerved by the other man’s condition. Finally, there was a knock, so quiet that Steve barely heard it. Upon answering the door, he found a small man with a large satchel, and just behind his shoulder was Natasha.

“What are you doing here?” He asked her incredulously. 

“I brought a doctor.” She innocently shrugged, and Steve gave her a stern look.

“Okay, so I didn’t actually believe that the doctor wasn’t for you, and I was concerned.” She admitted. 

“Well it really isn’t.” Steve said as he ushered the doctor into the bedroom. The man knelt down next to the bed and immediately began taking equipment out of his bag.

“He’s been shot…” Steve said to the doctor, “he isn’t doing well.” 

“Who’s that?” Natasha asked, now beside Steve in the bedroom. 

“His name is Matthew,” was all the information he would offer her. 

“Eyes are unresponsive.” The doctor reported. “Is this man blind?”

“Yes, he is.” Steve responded. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Natasha fixed on him as she waited for more of an explanation. She looked around the room at the pieces of the Daredevil suit, and then back at Steve with a furrowed brow. 

“You stitch this up?” Asked the doctor, and Steve nodded. “Piss poor job,” The man huffed. He then took out a small pair of scissors and forceps, opened a few of the stitches, and prodded at the raw wound to get a better look inside. 

Matt immediately gritted his teeth and shook violently, releasing a growl that turned into a strangled cry as beads of sweat trickled down the temples of his forehead. Steve was at his side in an instant and he grabbed Matt’s hand, enveloping it in his. 

“Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay, Matt.” Steve urged, and then he snapped, “Can’t you take it easy a little?” at the doctor. 

“He has an infection.” The doctor stated austerely. He withdrew the utensil and fished a syringe from his bag. Natasha just watched the whole display quietly, perplexed. 

“What is that?” Asked Steve. 

“Antibiotics. Only thing I can do for him now.” Said the doctor.

Steve pressed the back of Matt’s hand to his lips as the doctor administered the antibiotics and then re-stitched the area he had opened. When he was finally finished he handed Steve another syringe, and a bottle. “The syringe again in six hours, then the pills twice a day for the next two weeks. Keep the area clean. These he can take for pain” He said as he fished for a third bottle, and then he showed himself out.

Steve looked over Matt for a moment, and then walked out into the living room where Natasha waited. He finally allowed himself to make eye contact with her, though sheepishly. 

“What’s going on Steve?” She finally asked. “Who is that? And what’s this?” She added, holding up the Daredevil mask. 

“He’s… he’s a vigilante. Daredevil.” Steve answered. 

“Okay…” She pondered, “and how’d he end up here?” 

Steve leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him. “Look, I helped him out about a month ago, and last night he came back with the bullet wound. I wasn’t just going to let him die.” 

“Sure…” She responded somewhat sarcastically. “That makes sense. Except you also stripped him down, put him in your bed, and you seemed… affectionate.” She crossed her arms as well. 

“What does it matter, Nat?” Steve began to become irate. 

She paused and then shook her head. “I just don’t understand what’s going on with you. After that whole dispute with Tony, the thing with Bucky… after you gave up the shield…” She sighed. “And this?” She gestured toward the bedroom. 

Steve mulled it over, and then said, “Look, I… I really care about Matt. He’s…” he trailed off, and then shrugged, reluctant to continue. 

Natasha was quiet for a moment and then said, “Is this why you wouldn’t let me set you up on any dates?” with a suppressed amusement. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not gay. Okay?” he exclaimed. “It’s… it’s complicated.” As the words left his mouth he wished he hadn’t used them. 

Natasha was quiet once again, and then took a few steps toward him. “You know it would be okay if you were, right?” She asked gently. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Said Steve, pushing off the wall and walking across the room. “Everyone would just be more than happy to follow a Captain America that makes love to other men.” He walked to the bedroom door to look in on Matt, who now seemed to be back asleep. Natasha followed. 

“…Makes love?” She squeaked, a small smile began to creep on her lips as she kept her eyes on Steve. “Did you…? So, he’s like… your special guy friend?” She smirked. 

Steve didn’t answer at first. “I just need him to be alright.” He finally said.

~~~

Matt awoke slowly, his senses ebbing in and shorting out, ears buzzing like a fluorescent light. His first conscious thought was that every breath hurt; each intake of oxygen sent a vein of pain just to the right of his breast bone. He shifted against the cotton sheets below him, his first clue that he was in a bed that was not his own. He tried to think back. He remembered being shot and kicked, remembered the pain and the dizziness of the blood loss. The thought occurred to him with a jab of panic that he might be in the hospital, but a quick check of his senses didn’t seem to line up with that. No nauseating disinfectant, no sounds of equipment or other bodies coughing and crying on separate floors. He focused on what he could sense, and the first detail that reached him was that the bedding below him smelled of Steve Rogers. 

“Steve?” He mumbled, more to himself than anything else, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He tuned his ears into any signs of life, and found a heartbeat in the next room. “Steve?” He called out louder, though with some reservation. 

There was a stirring in the next room, then footfalls across the floor. “Matt?” Steve responded. “Hey, you’re awake.” 

Matt attempted to sit up, the wound in his shoulder throbbing with each contraction of his muscles. Suddenly Steve was next to him, a strong hand on his back. “How do you feel?” Asked Steve. 

Matt licked his lips. “Thirsty…” He rasped. He recalled being unable to move, unable to pull himself out of a restless sleep. In that darkness he had only been able to smell scorched metal, taste it. It filled all his senses. Now, he still tasted copper at the back of his throat, though it was more of an afterthought. 

Steve left the room for a moment, and came back with a glass of water. “Here…” He said, pressing the cool glass against Matt’s fingertips. Matt drank voraciously, taking the deepest gulps he could manage. “Slow down a little…” Said Steve. 

His head felt clearer and clearer with each gulp, and other thoughts began pouring in. he realized he was nearly naked. He realized he had been shot as Daredevil. “You know about me,” He realized aloud. 

Steve was silent, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. “I do.” He exhaled. 

Matt didn’t know what to say, where to start. “How…what happened?” He asked. 

“About two nights ago, you showed up in the suit. I didn’t know it was you, until you pulled off the mask, that is.” Said Steve, and Matt could feel the man studying him, perhaps examining his eyes.

“I am blind.” Matt responded. “Sort of. How I see… what I told you was the truth.” 

Steve nodded. “Look, Matt…” He started, unsure of his words. “You obviously have a unique skill… but you almost got yourself killed the other night.” 

It was then that it occurred to Matt, “Two nights ago? I’ve… I’ve been here for two days?” He stammered, a panic rising in his chest. 

“About two days, yeah. You were completely unresponsive. You-“ Steve attempted to explain, but Matt threw the blanket off of himself and tried to climb to his feet. “Matt, you’ve been sick. You need to take it slow.” Steve urged. 

When Matt got to his feet his head whirled, and he reached out to steady himself, grabbing onto Steve. “Take it easy!” Steve insisted, holding the man upright. “What’s the problem?” 

“I have to go.” Matt stated desperately. “I need… fuck. I need to let Foggy know that I’m okay…” 

“Okay, calm down, Matt.” Said Steve. “Just sit back down for a moment.” He urged, gently pushing Matt back down to the bed. “I’ll let Foggy know.” 

~~~

Foggy sat in his office, staring down at the papers on his desk. They didn’t make any sense, might as well have been a different language. Of course, he wasn’t actually trying to read them, he was simply feigning normalcy, hoping that going through his day-to-day would somehow bring Matt back around. Or, at least, distract him from the fact that he hadn’t heard from him in nearly two days. He had sent Karen a text, told her not to worry about coming in today. He lied and said that Matt wasn’t planning on coming in either, and that there wouldn’t be much to do. 

He had already been to Matt’s place, called all the nearest hospitals, and even checked a couple of rooftops. There were so many rooftops in the city, though, and there was no way of knowing where Matt may have ended up. _This is it _, he told himself. It had just been a matter of time before Matt would go too far, push himself too hard. He had hoped that this whole Daredevil thing might be a phase, and that Matt would move on with a real life for himself. Deep down he knew that wasn’t going to happen; there were days he saw a darkness in Matt’s eyes, even just a flash, that was almost scary.__

There was a knock at the door, and Foggy prepared himself for the worst news. When he answered the door, however, there were no police wearing somber faces. There was a Captain, though. 

Foggy’s initial response was one of confusion, his eyebrows drawn tight into his forehead, and then it was anger. “I knew you had something to do with this!” He hissed, prodding his finger at Steve Rogers. “Where the hell is Matt?” 

It was now Steve’s turn to dawn a look of confusion. “I… had something to do with...?” He began. “I kept Matt alive!” 

“Oh yeah?” Argued Foggy. “Why would he come to you? He told me that you hit it and quit it!” He spat matter-of-factly. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “First, I don’t think that’s any of your business, and I doubt Matt used those exact words.” He stated. “Second, I told Matt that I would come here and let you know he was okay. I’ve done that.” He turned, preparing to leave down the hallway.

“…Is he okay?” Foggy uttered, his voice softening. 

Steve paused and faced the other man again. “He’s…doing better. He was shot, between the breastbone and shoulder… it got infected quickly. He’s awake now.” Steve recounted tentatively. 

Foggy glanced up at Steve, his eyes wrought with anxiety. “I want to see him.” He stated. 

~~~

It turns out Foggy wasn’t a fan of the motorcycle either, though he did handle it better than Matt. Each time they paused, each time the engine died down a little, Steve heard a string of curses from behind him, "why couldn’t Steve afford a taxi, wasn’t he like a rock star", and then for some reason, "I should have been a butcher".

They reached the apartment, and Foggy continued to eye Steve as if he didn’t quite trust him. This was not a look he was used to, but it wasn’t often that he found himself in these sort of situations either. Foggy had changed his tune about “Captain America” pretty quickly once he found out that the man had been romantically involved with his friend. 

Steve could feel Foggy studying him, his eyes burning into the back of his neck as he unlocked the door to his apartment. They entered the living room and he gestured toward the bedroom, watching Foggy as he analyzed the pieces of the de-constructed Daredevil suit strewn about the floor. It occurred to Steve that Foggy didn’t look confused by the sight of the suit, and that Foggy must know about Matt. He found it a little surprising, though Matt had said Foggy was his best friend. 

Foggy hesitantly entered the bedroom, saw Matt, and then rushed to the side of the bed. “Matt! Holy shit, are you alright?” He asked, reaching out to rest a hand on Matt’s uninjured shoulder. 

Matt was still lacking a little color in the face, and his hair was impressively mussed. “F-Foggy?” He responded, genuinely surprised by the man’s presence. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Foggy stated. He looked Matt up and down. “…Why are you almost naked?”

Matt pulled the blanket up over his boxer briefs. “I… I don’t wear anything under the suit, it restricts movement.” He blushed slightly. 

“What happened, Matt?” Foggy asked, sitting in the chair that Steve had placed near the bed. 

“I just got a little careless, Foggy.” Matt shrugged. 

Foggy growled, frustration getting the better of him. “So have you had enough yet?” He snapped, and Matt dropped his head to the side, sighing. 

“you know it’s not that simple.” Matt stated, exhaustion seeping into his voice. 

“It could be, maybe, if you let it.” Foggy asserted, though not without hesitation. 

“Foggy, there is not a simple solution to this. I can’t just turn it off. Do you really expect me to ignore what’s going on in this city?” he implored. 

Now Foggy sighed. “I don’t want to have this conversation again…” He shrugged. 

“Neither do I.” Said Matt sternly. 

Steve listened from the doorway as the two fought like an old married couple. Foggy certainly cared a great deal about Matt; in fact, he was quite protective of the man. It was a notion he was familiar with himself, and then he couldn’t help but think of Bucky, back in the old days. 

Foggy studied Matt. “Well I’m glad you’re still alive.” He finally said. “Do you need anything?” 

Matt cocked his head and thought a moment. “I could really use some clothes, but you’d have to break into my apartment to get them.” He cringed. 

Foggy nodded. “You don’t have your keys?” 

“I-I don’t take them with me…” Matt responded awkwardly. “I go in and out the window.” 

Foggy rolled his eyes. “You’re bat-shit crazy, you know that. How did I ever end up with such a crazy-ass friend? I mean, I thought you were normal in college- blind, but normal. Then you went all _Mad Max _on me.”__

Matt pursed his lips. “I never saw that film, is it any good?” He responded wryly. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Foggy sighed. “Well, I’m not breaking into your place, and I’m not going in the window…” 

“It’s fine, Foggy.” Matt chuckled softly. “I’ll figure something out.” 

Foggy hesitated. “Anything else I can do?”

Matt shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Thanks, though. And, I’m sorry I made you worry.” He smiled.

“You’re a hazard, Murdock.” Foggy exhaled as he raised to his feet. “But I love you.” He said genuinely. 

“Love you too Foggy.” Matt responded softly, his eyes facing down at the bed. 

Foggy paused and nodded, unable to stifle a small smile. He then headed back into the living room, Steve following. Foggy started for the door, and then stopped and turned back to Steve. “Thanks for helping him out.” He yielded, his voice hushed. Steve crossed his arms and gave an affirmative nod. 

Foggy made eye contact, reading him, and then sighed. “Look, Steve, Matt may have heightened senses or whatever, and he may have been trained in combat, but he’s not a god or a super solider, and he can’t transform into a giant impervious monster. I don’t know what your plans are for him, but this is literally the third or fourth time I’ve seen him almost die. I don’t know if he’s cut out for the Avengers…”

Steve furrowed his brow, a bit confused by the conversation. Then, it dawned on him, “You… think I want to recruit Matt?” 

“I don’t know.” Foggy shrugged. “You just kind of showed up, suddenly so interested in him…” he trailed off. “I don’t want Matt to do this, this whole Daredevil thing. But I can’t stop him.”

“The Avengers don’t even exist anymore.” Stated Steve. “if they did, though… I can assure you that I wouldn’t want to get Matt involved. I didn’t even know he was Daredevil until he came to me with the bullet wound.” 

Foggy nodded, relief relaxing the muscles in his face. Still, he pressed on in the conversation. “Christ, he can probably hear me right now, but I’m going to say this anyways. Matt is the kindest, most genuine person I have ever met,” he declared, trying to keep his voice down. “The guy is willing to sacrifice his life to protect the people he cares about, hell, people he doesn’t know even. And, though he doesn’t like to think so, he’s actually very sensitive. So if you think that you’re just interested in his hot blind ass, do him a favor and leave him alone. He likes you… I can tell.” 

Steve blushed a little at Foggy’s candor, and then conceded, “You really care about Matt, that’s good. I’m glad he has a friend like you.” As he spoke Bucky still ghosted at the back of his mind. He hesitated and then looked Foggy in the eye, adding, “I care about him, too,” his sincerity unabashed. 

~~~

“There’s a towel for you here on the counter…” Said Steve, guiding Matt’s hand over to show him its precise location. “I’ll try to find you something to change into.”

“Thanks, Steve.” Matt gave a nod. He was feeling very naked standing in front of the other man in his boxer briefs, even if he had been lying around in them for the past 36 hours. “Soap?” He inquired.

“In the shower. Let me know if you need anything…” Steve offered, paused, and then shut the door softly behind him. 

Matt exhaled, and then stripped off his boxer briefs, his breastbone and shoulder pulsating. He headed towards the sound of the running water. Steve had seemed to spend a decent amount of time adjusting the temperature for him, and when the warmth first engulfed him it was certainly a relief. The water was reviving; until it began to flood the bullet wound, that is. What started as a dull intrusive throb grew into a bottomless burn, scalding the very core of him. 

He cringed, snarling to himself, and pushed the sopping hair backward off his forehead. Generally, you could wait it out, the pain that came with water on a wound. It would slowly improve, the fine nerves in the skin becoming overwhelmed and eventually deadening to the sensation. The longer he kept his shoulder under the water, though, the more it pulsed raw. 

_“Ah!” _He cried out softly, surrendering and backing away from the stream. He could practically feel the bullet still in there, the metal chafing against bone and nerve. He tried to take deep breaths, in through his nose and slowly out through his mouth, reconstructing his bravery. The shower would just have to be quick and efficient. His fingers felt along the slippery wall for the soap, and he toppled a bottle of shampoo to the porcelain floor with an echoing clatter.__

It wasn’t long before Steve responded to the racket, as if he hadn’t wandered very far. “Everything okay, Matt?” He called. 

“Yeah.” Matt gritted, gripping the bar of soap and working it into a quick lather. He worked the lather over his face and body first, avoiding the bullet wound and the certain agony that would come from soaping it. Then, he took a few more deep breaths and immersed his shoulder back under the water, lathering it quickly. 

_“Fuck!” _He growled through his teeth, making sure it was thoroughly rinsed out before quickly turning off the faucet. He rubbed at the muscle there, mentally imploring the heavy scorching pain to subside. The little piece of metal was like a little parasite in him, an unwanted intruder that would have to come out if he couldn’t find a way to look past it. He tried to lift his arm to the side, testing its mobility. It was tight, for sure, and his muscle burned against the invading object. He sensed a possible hairline fracture in the clavicle, and maybe the edge of one of his ribs from the kinetic energy off of the projectile. The suit had probably prevented even further damage.__

Matt pulled open the curtain, his legs a little shaky. He toweled off quickly, catching a small whiff of fresh blood. His fingers dabbed at the wound, cringing with the contact. 

There was a polite knock at the door, and Matt wrapped the towel around his waist. “Are you decent?” Steve called from the other room.

“Yeah, come in.” Matt answered, a little breathless. 

The door opened slowly. “I dug up a pair of sweatpants; they’re a little tight on me so they might work for you.” Steve stated. “…you’re bleeding again.” He announced. 

He approached Matt and rested his fingers gently on Matt’s deltoid, eyeing the wound. Matt heard him rifling through the first aid kit, and then a fresh piece of gauze was pressed gently against his shoulder. He felt the man’s warm breath against his clavicle, both comforting and unsettling at the same time. 

Steve’s heartrate thickened, his breath slowly becoming uneven. “Matt…” He hesitated, “I’m sorry about the other night, how I left…”

Matt licked his lips. “It’s okay, Steve. I understand. Things got a little…carried away.” He grinned shyly. 

“Yeah well,” Steve’s breath continued to hit his clavicle, “I panicked, anyways.” He lifted the gauze to check for the appropriate clotting. “I want you to know… it didn’t have anything to do with you.” 

“Steve.” Matt smiled and shook his head. “Really, you don’t have to explain.” 

“I want to, though.” He said softly, his hand dropping by his side. 

Matt began to feel unnerved, almost certain that his cheeks and ears were beginning to redden. “Okay.” He mumbled, licking his lips again. It was a nervous habit. 

Steve took a decisive breath. “I don’t get out much, Matt,” he started tentatively. “I mean, I used to go out on double dates with a friend of mine back in 1942, but those usually didn’t go well. I’ve been… with a couple of women… but it’s been awhile.” he huffed, his body heat rising with embarrassment. 

Matt cocked his head. “How long is awhile?” He asked, though given the direction of the conversation he had a bit of an idea. 

Steve leaned back on the counter. “Uh… 70 years?” He grimaced. 

Matt couldn’t help but blink wildly, his eyes widening at the thought. How the hell was this man still sane? “Um… wow…” He exhaled and then smirked, “Well, glad to be of service, then.”

Steve chuckled nervously. “Thing is, I’m an old-fashioned guy. I always kind of believed in waiting for love… the other night, though…” he swallowed, “I just, I wanted you, so bad…” he confided, his words strangled. “Afterwards, when it sunk in, I panicked. I hate that I might have hurt you…” 

Matt’s smile softened, and he reached a hand out for Steve’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Steve. Really.” He gave the man a firm pat, though he was having a hard time ignoring the fact that even now Steve was fairly aroused in front of him. Matt would have liked to take care of it for him, would have been more than willing to oblige, but something about Steve’s body language told him that was not what Steve wanted, at least not at the moment. 

Steve nodded and sighed, seemingly relieved. “Well, I laid out those sweatpants and a sweatshirt on the bed for you. I’ll leave you to it.” He said, striding out of the bathroom.

Matt wanted to reach out and stop him, grab a hold of the man and give him a kiss that would make him dizzy. He wanted to make him fall apart again with his tongue, but he let him leave unhindered. He wasn’t certain that Steve was telling him everything, either. The man wanted him, that was clear, but something stronger than values seemed to be keeping him away. If Steve was willing to talk about it, he would be willing to listen. 

Matt felt his way back into the bedroom, the bedroom door now shut. His fingers found the clothing on the bed, and as he dressed he once again felt the intruding object grind against his flesh. He growled, again testing the mobility of his arm, and frowning to himself. The guy he had been after the other night, that bastard was still out there. The fact that he was wounded didn’t change anything. He wasn’t sure what time of day it was exactly, but he calculated that it must be early evening, five or six o’clock. He couldn’t afford to waste too much time. He would rest up, maybe for a few more hours, and then he would have to act. The bastard he was after, a man by the name of Shayne Dexter, had built up a modest human trafficking ring and it was growing rapidly. It had to be stopped. 

For now, though, he climbed back into the bed, inhaling the scent of Steve Rogers. He wanted to relish in the comforting aroma, the fleece-lined sweatshirt and the soft mattress, but he was soon fast asleep; a half constructed plan of how he would take down Shayne Dexter in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random note: Chris Evans has said that he thinks Captain America (at least, the MCU version) is a virgin. I chose to give the poor guy at least a little experience.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt insists that he must go after the man that had him shot, and thus Steve insists on helping him.

“I can’t stay, Steve,” said Matt, leaning against the bedroom doorframe. “I have to find the man I was looking for the other night.” His hair was beautifully mussed and he was wearing the sweatpants Steve had lent him, though they were certainly too big. 

Steve resisted the urge to steer the man back to bed; he didn’t want to treat him like a child. “You should get more rest,” said Steve, checking his cabinets for cans of soup, or anything else Matt might like to eat. “And you haven’t eaten anything in the past two days.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve seen worse.” Matt responded, taking a few weak steps into the living room. 

Steve eyed him. It looked as if he could barely walk, how the hell was he going to track a man down and fight him? “This is the guy that shot you?” He asked, his curiosity mounting. 

Matt nodded. “One of his men. His name is Shayne Dexter, or at least, that’s the name he’s going by. He was arrested for a possible kidnapping two years ago, but they never charged him. He’s started up a human trafficking ring right here in Hell’s Kitchen, the market has been left open since I took out the Russians. His business is relatively new, but it’s building quickly. Last time I gathered he had about four guys under him, now he may have up to fifteen…” he explained, his eyes fixed intensely on the floor. 

Steve’s jaw tensed as he listened to Matt, and then he exhaled quickly, his exasperation building. “Sounds like a lot of work. You sure you have the strength for that right now?”

“I’ll find it.” Matt declared with a grave severity. “I have to take care of this. I can’t just let those bastards bring that kind of shit into my city.”

_Damn it, _Steve thought to himself. So this is what he started, all those years ago? Guys like Matt, sweet, intelligent guys, taking it upon themselves to go out alone into the streets, sacrificing their lives and their bodies. His eyes roamed over Matt’s body then, taking in the bruises and the scars, the bloodied gauze taped over the hole in his shoulder. He looked almost pathetic in Steve’s oversized sweatpants, the waistband hanging loosely from his angular hips and making him look young, gaunt. He was fighting an overwhelming urge to protect Matt, to envelop him in bubble wrap and keep him safe from everyone and everything. He had a feeling Matt would take that personally, though, if he knew. And, who was he to ask anyone else to not be a vigilante?__

“You have to take care of yourself, Matt. You don’t have the resources to pull this off singlehandedly. You’re gonna get killed.” Steve asserted, both stern and hesitant all at once. He opened a can of tomato soup.

“Look, you may be out there fighting alien armies and sentient robots, and that’s great, thanks from all of us, but someone still has to be looking out for the little guy, Steve. He’s been bringing in young girls from other states. Some of these girls are as young as twelve… they’re just kids.” Matt insisted, stepping in Steve’s direction. “And, I’m not asking for your permission, here. I’m telling you what’s going to happen.” He added. 

Steve looked into Matt’s wild and desperate eyes, his stomach sinking. He sighed through his nose. “Okay. But I’m going to help you.” He said. “And first, you should eat something.” 

~~~

Steve sat on the edge of the couch, glancing into the bedroom as Matt built the suit of armor back around his body. He watched him suppress a wince, his eyes spacey and exhausted. He wanted to change his mind then, wanted to tell Matt that this was a bad idea. If he was insisting on going out tonight, however, then Steve sure as hell wasn’t going to let him go alone.

Matt walked into the living room fully suited, save for the mask. He somehow looked both strong and vulnerable all at once, and Steve felt a twinge in his chest. “You sure about this, Matt?” He couldn’t help but ask again. Matt just nodded, his eyes on the floor, and put the mask over his face. Steve stood from the couch, and put his leather jacket over his hooded sweatshirt. “Alright,” he said, “Let’s go.”

He quietly followed Matt as they traversed the city, scaling rooftops and fire escapes to stay off the streets as much as possible. Matt became silent and immensely focused, tuned into a frequency that Steve couldn’t reach. He was like a dog hunting, accessing a matrix of scents and sounds that led him forward. His haste and agility were impressive given his current state, and it was fairly clear that he had accomplished his new found focus through sheer willpower. 

Finally, they stopped on a rooftop that Matt deemed appropriate for perching and waiting, and they crouched in the darkness, Matt’s foot on the edge as he knelt forward in concentration. Steve watched him with undying curiosity; it looked as if he were picking up either voices or other noises, his lips twitching lightly and his head tilting. He remembered the conversation they had had in the diner, how Matt had described his senses as heightened. He had kept the conversation fairly vague, though, and certainly hadn’t clarified that he might be able to pick up sounds or movements that were otherwise completely inaudible. Steve’s senses had also been improved with the serum, mainly the acuity of his vision, but he was getting the feeling that Matt was on a totally different level. 

Suddenly Matt snapped his head toward the west. “It’s them,” He said. “About three buildings that way.” 

Steve nodded firmly. “Let’s get this done.” He pulled his hood up over his head. 

As they neared the area, Steve began to hear the men in the alley as well. They spoke without restraint, laughing and cursing raucously. Steve and Matt stood on a fire escape, looking down at the uproar from a slightly obstructed angle. From what Steve could see, most of them carried weapons freely, not even attempting to hide their intent. Perhaps they believed they had managed to kill the Devil, or at the very least injure him greatly enough to keep him off the streets for a period of time. He turned back to face Matt, but Matt was no longer behind him. His eyes scanned the silhouettes of surrounding rooftops for the shadowy figure, and then snapped back to the men on the street, but he couldn’t catch even a glimpse of the red and black suit. He climbed down to the street with stealth, peering around a corner of brick at the target. 

He was just about to scan his surroundings for Matt yet again when he noticed one of the bodies jilted backwards into a gap in the wall down the alleyway, noiselessly like shark bait being dragged under. None of the other men even noticed, at least, not at first. There were muffled sounds of a struggle, and the others began to quiet, studying one another in confusion. One of the men with his back turned to Steve began to anxiously reach for the gun at his side, and Steve took that at his cue to charge out of the shadows and tackle him by the waist. Now all the men sprang into action like wasps, some running into the nearest building while one or two others came out to study the scene. 

Steve jumped to his feet and saw that Matt was also now out of the shadows, charging one of the men into the wall in front of him and using his body weight as a blunt object. Two others tried to pull him down from behind, and Steve rushed over to pick one of them off and throw the man across the alley. Someone hit Steve in the side with a metal object, perhaps a pipe, and he momentarily doubled forward before he caught a hold of the weapon and freed it from his attacker’s hands. He swiped his foe across the face with it, knocking him down with one authoritative blow, and then crouching to his knees to knock him out entirely. 

He looked back over to Matt, who had apparently subdued his two previous opponents without too much trouble. He now had moved onto another; a man he had pinned to the wall with his forearm on the guy’s throat. The man’s feet wriggled freely, the toes of shoes desperately kicking for the ground just below, and Matt punched the man savagely in the head until it bounced off the brick and his body slumped and sagged to the pavement. One of the men that had already attempted to attack him began to make his way back to his feet, weakly grabbing for Matt yet again, and Matt gave him an elbow in the nose that sent him back down to the street. 

Steve’s distraction cost himself a shot to the jaw, but to him it was nothing more than a mere annoyance. He grabbed the man by the back of the neck and flung him to the pavement, knocking him out efficiently with two strong blows to the face. It was then that two of the remaining men lost their nerve, attempting to flee down the alley. 

“I got it!” Steve yelled, turning to chase after them as Matt kneed another in the ribs with a passionate repetition. Steve grabbed the lid off of a metal trash can as he took off, hurling it at the closest runner as if it were his shield. The projectile caught the guy in the back of the head and forced him face first to the ground. The other man Steve ran down with ease, tackling and rendering unconscious with several focused strikes. 

Steve examined the two for movement and a few panicked gunshots rang out down the alley back in Matt’s direction, the sound jolting his nerves like ice. He turned back to look for Matt, and found him lording over the last man still semi-upright, a gun knocked to the concrete at the man’s knees. _“You son of a bitch.” _He heard Matt growl viciously.__

Steve jogged over to the two and kicked the gun out of the criminal’s reach. He resisted the urge to check Matt for new bullet holes; his companion seemed to be fine. Even the unsteady fatigue he had witnessed earlier in the evening now seemed like a distant memory. Matt looked like a ghost that had come back to haunt them, strong and vengeful, and it could also be seen in the eyes of the prey at his feet. He had definitely found the strength. 

Matt had the criminal’s arm, his boot resting firmly on his back as he forced the man to stay on his knees. _“Where’s Dexter?” _He demanded.__

“He-He’s not here!” The man stuttered. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Matt lifted his boot and brought it down on the arm he clutched, breaking it with a sickening crunch. _“Where is he?” _He shouted as the man choked and wept.__

“He…he’s in California…” he finally managed, sobbing, “he isn’t here!”

Matt panted above him, listening and lingering, and then he pushed the man face first to the concrete. He was snarling, his teeth bared, his breath hitched. _“Damn it!” _He hissed.  
__

__Steve watched him, his own voice taking a moment to kick in. This was a very different Matthew Murdock. “What now?” Steve asked, glancing around at the other bodies to make sure they all remained still._ _

_“He got away from me…” _Matt growled to himself, his fists clenched and his pant almost like a soft bark. Then all at once he was suddenly silent, his mouth opened breathlessly as he focused on something inaudible.__

“What’s-“ Steve began, but Matt held a hand up to quiet him. 

He cocked his head. “There. Some of the kids are in that building.” He finally whispered, nodding to the brick building that some of the men had fled into at the first signs of a struggle.

“How do you…” Steve started, but Matt was already headed for the side door, just as police sirens began to howl in the distance. “We have to go now.” Steve stated. “I can’t let you get sent to The Raft.” 

Matt hesitated and then growled, following Steve back into the shadows. They found themselves on the same rooftop as before, Matt listening as the police investigated the scene. He concentrated, intensely silent for about thirty minutes, Steve’s eyes locked on him the whole time. 

“They found the girls.” He finally said. His determined posture relaxed slightly, and he absently rubbed at his shoulder. “The rest of the guys must have left them there during the fight.” 

“We should go home, Matt.” Steve said softly. “You should rest.” 

“I slept for two days,” said Matt, tilting his head in Steve’s direction. Still, he raised to his feet to comply, for now satisfied that at least some of the kids had been retrieved. 

~~~

Matt climbed back into the apartment through the window, Steve following closely behind him. He stood in the middle of the living room, taking in the onset of fatigue that would inevitably set in as the endorphins wore off. His shoulder throbbed. 

“My shoulder’s really tight.” He muttered to himself as he pulled off his mask and let it fall to the ground. He tried to stretch his arm up overhead, wincing as he encountered some resistance about half way.

“You might have some muscle damage.” Steve stated as he turned toward him, watching him struggle with the armor. “Here, let me help.” He strode over and started to help Matt deconstruct the suit again. 

Matt surrendered, allowing the man to strip him back down to his boxer briefs. He felt Steve gently tug away the gauze over his shoulder, and a gust of cool air shocked the raw skin underneath. 

“You popped a few stitches,” Steve observed. After a moment’s deliberation he added, “we should probably clean it.”

Matt gave a nod and Steve led the way through the bedroom and into the bathroom, parking him in front of the sink. There was an overwhelming rush of rubbing alcohol in the air, and then Steve warned, “this is going to sting.”

Matt felt the cold liquid press against his skin, blotting. He tightened his jaw. “Thanks for helping me out tonight,” He exhaled. 

Steve nodded. “I’m a big advocate for people working together.” He shrugged. “You shouldn’t work alone, Matt. There’s nothing wrong with needing backup.” 

Matt took in the information, but didn’t respond. Instead he just chewed on his bottom lip. That wasn’t what Stick had said. Stick had somehow wanted him to be part of a massive invisible war and yet an army of one all at once. He knew Stick was full of shit, but it was hard to shake the lessons from those formative years. 

“I’m going to fix these stitches.” Steve stated, pulling Matt out of his head. 

“Okay.” Matt allowed. He heard Steve rifle through the first aid kit again, and then thread the needle. He braced himself on the edge of the sink.

“Here we go…” Steve said softly, pulling the needle through Matt’s skin. Matt shuddered and tightened his grip on the porcelain, and Steve countered with soothing utterances. “Almost done, Matthew.” 

Matt cocked his head at the formal moniker. It didn’t bother him, in fact he liked the way it sounded on Steve’s lips. He just wasn’t entirely sure why Steve had chosen to use it, or if he had noticed the man use it before.

Steve tied off the last stitch. “Finished,” he stated, his voice gentle and hushed. 

“Thanks…” Matt said softly, and then he cocked his head. “You’re hurt, too.”

Steve looked down at his chest where there had been a localized sting, and saw a gash on his chest. He didn’t even remember seeing a knife at the fight, or how the injury may have happened. “Oh, it’s nothing, just a cut. It’ll heal quickly.” Said Steve. 

Matt’s fingers raised up to the other man's breast bone, ghosting so softly along the gash through the split open sweatshirt that Steve barely felt it. “Hmm…” Matt hummed, “better clean it, at least.” He grabbed the rubbing alcohol and felt for the cotton swabs, pouring carefully, and then pressed the saturated cotton to the wound. “I could stitch it for you, if you like.” He smiled shyly.

Steve had just watched Matt ably fight off multiple men, yet he still paused at the thought of a blind man stitching him up. “Oh?” He responded somewhat awkwardly. 

“You get pretty good at it when your dad’s a boxer," said Matt. 

“Right,” Steve stated with amusement. “Okay, have at it then.” 

Matt located the first aid kit, and then the needle and sutures. He could feel Steve watching him, and he thread the needle with a decent accuracy. “Take your shirt off, please.” Matt mumbled. 

Steve obliged, an uptick in his body temperature making itself known to Matt. He resisted the urge to just reach out and grasp the man’s chest, his curiosity rampant as he didn’t get a chance to do so back at his place all those nights ago. He limited his inquisitive fingers to the sliced ab, gently feeling the edges of the gash as he worked the needle through the skin. He could feel Steve’s warm breath on him, aware that as he worked Steve was just studying his face instead of his hands. 

When he was satisfied with the job he’d done he traced his fingertips once more over the now rough and closed cut, reading it like braille. “There, finished.” He quietly announced. 

“You’re very good with your hands.” Steve observed, his heartbeat thumping. “Even more so than someone who can see, I mean.” He added, and Matt couldn’t help but smirk up at him, his eyebrow arching provocatively. 

Steve looked him up and down, and then cleared his throat. “The doctor that came to look you over left something for pain, do you want to take one?” He offered, changing the subject and locating the bottle on the counter.

Matt shook his head. “No, thanks. I can’t take that stuff… it messes with my senses. Makes me feel… lost. More blind than usual.” He smiled. 

“Alright.” Steve responded quietly, then he chuckled to himself. “Funny, the stuff doesn’t even work on me. My metabolism is so fast now, I can’t even get drunk.” 

“Now that’s a shame.” Matt chuckled softly in return. “I bet you’d be a fun drunk.” 

“I don’t know if fun is the word,” Steve sighed, leaning back on the counter. “I got myself beat up a lot, that’s for sure.” 

Matt’s grin softened, and there was a moment of timid silence between them. Just as Matt was considering breaking it with some sort of bold, amorous invitation, Steve spoke up again. 

“Well, you should probably get some sleep.” Steve sighed. “You can take my bed.” He offered. 

“I don’t want to put you out of your bed again,” answered Matt, shaking his head. _There’s enough room for both of us _, he thought to himself.__

“It’s really not a problem,” said Steve. “I barely sleep as it is. Half the time I just lay there for a few hours, give up and go for a run.” He shrugged. 

Matt hesitated, “Okay,” he relented. He wouldn’t mind falling asleep wrapped up in a bundle of Steve’s scent again, anyways. 

~~~

Steve led Matt back into the bedroom, though he now knew it probably wasn’t necessary. He said good night to Matt, lingering in the room, and Matt seemed to fall asleep quickly. Then, Steve returned to the bathroom, shutting the door softly and turning on the shower faucet. He stood under the warm stream for a few minutes, replaying the night in his mind. The fight, Matt’s graceful accuracy, and then Matt almost naked and right in front of him once again, his fingertips resting on Steve’s bare chest. He had told himself that he just wanted rinse off the grit from the fight, but it wasn’t long before he found himself bracing against the shower wall with one arm, feverishly thrusting into his fist. Steve climaxed quickly, biting into his forearm stretched in front of him to muffle his cries of release. 

Afterwards, he toweled off and navigated his way through the dark bedroom, quietly grabbing a change of clothing. He glanced over Matt, who seemed to be sleeping soundly through his shufflings. The man looked absolutely peaceful when he slept, curled up on his good shoulder with his fists drawn up to his chin, his face serene and relaxed. Steve would have liked to crawl into bed next to him, even contemplated doing so, but then he found himself exiting the bedroom to lie on the couch. 

Of course, he wouldn’t sleep, Not for a while. His body needed so little sleep. He thought about Matt and Daredevil. It was almost like the man had a split personality. He tried to envision the soft-spoken, kind-eyed Matt Murdock willingly breaking a man’s arm without a moment’s hesitation, but he really couldn’t. Which one was the act? Matt seemed so sweet, so genuine. Did he play tough because he felt he had to, or was it just the opposite? It was hard to imagine two extremes in one person, but human nature never failed to astound. 

Matt proved to be a complicated individual, thus far. He was gentle and brutal, sincere yet secretive. He possessed both a natural innocence and a heavy guilt. There was also a profound darkness in him, one that was just beginning to make itself known to Steve. He still didn’t know the extent of Matthew’s rage, but he was thankful that there was an intrinsic light in the man to counter it. Without that light they might have ended up fighting each other. 

He thought back to the first night they met, or, the first night he met Matt Murdock. He recalled their sparring, how impressed he had been with Matt’s accuracy. Even then, though, Matt had been holding back. Steve knew that, now. Matt had been angry with him for pulling his punches, but it turns out he had done the same. Steve would have never known, had he not seen the full extent of Matt’s capabilities. It struck Steve that Matt must have gotten quite good at playing a character for those around him, putting on a show to hide his skill. To be that good of an actor, that good at pretending... what else was he so skillfully hiding? The thought occurred to Steve, and he chastised himself for it even crossing his mind. Matt did what he had to do to get by, to live some semblance of a normal life. 

Natasha crossed his mind then, how she had become so used to playing parts that she didn’t even know who she truly was anymore. Was Matt the same way? He still had much to learn about the man. For instance, Matt had explained his ability to fight by his heightened senses, but he had to have been professionally trained at some point to fight the impressive way he did. When would that have happened? Matt was blinded so young. Perhaps there was more to his father than just a professional boxing career, and he had taught Matt a thing or two. Or, perhaps Matt sought out training himself when he was a little older. 

_“Battlin’ Jack Murdock’s boy” _, they had called Matt at Fogwell’s. It occurred to Steve that he had heard mention of Matt’s father on multiple occasions, though never of his mother. Then again, he didn’t really know anything about Matt’s childhood other than that he was blinded while trying to save a man’s life and that his dad was a subpar boxer.__

It then became clear to Steve that he would not be sleeping tonight, and so he pulled himself back off the couch. He looked in on Matt once more, still asleep, before he put on his shoes. He decided to head over to Matt’s place to grab him some proper clothes to change into, fairly certain that Matt would be wanting to leave in the morning. 

Steve was also fairly certain that Matt’s bedroom window would be open for his own ease of access at night. As Steve walked the side streets to Matt’s apartment he was vaguely aware of a sensation in his chest, one that was both heavy and sick. The thought of Matt leaving, of him going back home left him sad and anxious. 

It was a complicated relationship that they had constructed thus far; Steve playing hero to Matt at least twice, a brawl between them at the gym, one almost date and one definite date, a hot and heavy sexual encounter, and then a shared fight in an alleyway. Really, he wasn’t sure what the next step should be in a situation such as this, but he knew there had to be something next. 

He had to see Matt again, that he was certain of.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Matt begin to become attached to each other, and their relationship takes another leap forward. Steve is visited by someone unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter is oh-so-explicit. NSFW.

Matt lie awake in bed, listening to a light drizzle outside his window. For many the sound of rain was “white noise”, a welcome sleep aid. This was not the case for him, though. To Matt a rainstorm was like a cacophonous symphony, and if he focused hard enough he could hear the individual unique sounds of raindrops on the tops of parked cars, on the pavement and the sidewalk, on the hollow mailbox at the corner of the street, and on the occasional passing umbrella. 

This was how it was on nights when he had nothing else to focus on other than the will to sleep, and this was one of those nights. He wasn’t sure of the exact time, but he guessed that it must be at least 1 am. He felt for his watch on the bed stand and tickled his fingers across the raised clock face, finding that it was indeed 1:49. 

It occurred to him that Steve was very likely to be awake at this time, as well. It seemed to him that Steve was a lonely man. Matt knew, because he was well acquainted with what loneliness felt like. Even when Matt was with his friends, there was a deep sense of loneliness he couldn’t shake. He assumed that would always be a part of him, that it came with being so different from everyone else. 

Lovers would help momentarily, but only long enough to discover Matt’s inner demons and leave or to present a truly terrifying set of their own. Steve, though, he was fairly similar to Matt. His own experiences had created a permanent barrier from him and everyone else, having gone through a unique set of circumstances that no one else could really understand. He was also driven by his will to do what was right, to sacrifice his own life for the good of others. And both of them, well, they both did their best to deny their own human limitations, though Steve was better equipped having been dosed with the serum. 

Steve, however, seemed to be pure light. And if he wasn’t, he was very good at faking it. Steve never seemed to question that what he was doing was the right thing, he just knew. This was not a trait that Matt could relate to. Matt struggled with his thoughts and actions, almost constantly. His anger, his guilt, his true intent. He never knew for sure that what he was doing was the right thing, not without a doubt. But he did know what he felt driven to do, and he tried his best to trust himself and his own conscience. 

He didn’t like the idea of Steve sitting alone in his apartment, night after night. Matt was always afraid to let people in, had inadvertently made it a rule. He told himself he would protect others by not letting them get close, though he also knew deep down that he was trying to protect himself as well. People were only temporary fixtures in your life. They got bored, lost interest, and left. They loved you, and then they died. 

But Steve was strong, stronger than most. He could protect himself, and Matt wanted so much to let him in. Matt climbed out of bed and grabbed a change of clothing. 

~~~

There was a gentle knock at Steve’s door, and he sat up in bed, confused. He checked the clock by his bed, it was about 2:30am. Of course, with the crowd that he typically associated with it could be just about anyone, friend or foe. He approached the door hesitantly, glancing through the peephole. His stomach jolted when he realized that Matt was on the other side. “What are you doing here, Matt? Everything okay?” He asked as he pulled open the door. 

A smile curled Matt’s lips and he nodded. “Couldn’t sleep, I know you can’t either. I thought you might like some company.” 

Steve tried to quell the elation that thundered in him; this was exactly what he wanted and needed. “Sure, come on in.” He grinned, stepping aside and trying to ignore the gnawing desire that typically surfaced when Matt was in the same room as him. Matt took a few steps into the apartment, grinned shyly and paused in front of Steve, and Steve briefly wondered if Matt could sense when he was aroused. He couldn’t be that perceptive, right? 

“How’s your shoulder?” Steve asked, swallowing his nervous thoughts. 

Matt cleared his throat. “Painful, still tight,” he responded, rotating his shoulder to test it once again. “Better than it was, though.” He set his walking stick against the wall by the door. 

Steve nodded. “I think I know how you’re going to respond to this, but you really should have it checked for any damage.” 

“Yeah well,” Matt tilted his head and smiled briefly, ultimately dismissing the topic. He put his hands on his hips and wandered further into the living room. 

“Would you like to sit?” asked Steve, gesturing toward the couch and then stopping himself. It was still easy to forget that Matt couldn’t see, the way he carried himself. 

“Sure.” Matt responded quietly, a warm grin gracing his face. He stretched out his hand and made his way over to the couch, Steve following closely behind. 

They sat together, first in a charged, eager silence. Matt fidgeted with his fingers, and Steve made an effort to not stare at him, wanting only to study him closely, intimately. “So how come you couldn’t sleep?” asked Steve. 

“Sometimes it can be hard to tune it out, the sounds of the city. Most of the time I can control it, if I focus. At night though, when I’m lying in bed… it can be hard to not listen to everything within earshot.” He paused and then shrugged. “And rainstorms are especially interesting. Each raindrop is like a little pin falling on a surface, creating a variety of sounds in different pitches.”

Steve was silent at first, unsure of what to say. “Wow…” he finally breathed, “you’re incredible.” 

Matt blushed slightly, his grin boyish and shy. “I can taste the rain too, before it starts to fall.” 

“Really?” Steve inquired, “what does a rainstorm taste like?” He chuckled and rested his arm on the back of the couch, reaching far enough that his hand stretched behind the man next to him. 

Matt contemplated for a moment, answering, “salty, earthy. Sometimes there are hints of chemicals, depending on where the rain came from.” 

Steve didn’t know what say, exactly, other than maybe to tell Matt he was incredible once more. He decided that might not be the smoothest move, though, and so he waited until Matt spoke again. 

“What do you do, Steve, when you can’t sleep?” Matt finally asked. 

Steve sighed. “Well, I train. I think. I read, sketch. I’ve gotten pretty good at passing the time.” 

“Do you ever see anybody?” Matt asked. 

He briefly thought about the people that he used to know, then the people he knew now. “I didn’t have anyone, when I woke up. When the Avengers were assembled I did start to get used to the idea of companionship again. Now that’s over, I don’t know…” he sighed. “I think I may have burned some bridges.” 

“What happened to the Avengers, anyways?” Matt asked. 

“It had a lot to do with the Accords. I’m not always the easiest person to work with, I guess. Apparently I’m pretty set in my ways.” Steve smiled, though he couldn’t help but feel the seeping sadness of the rift between him and his one-time companions. 

“I’m starting to think my friends and colleagues are saying the same thing about me,” said Matt. 

Steve chuckled briefly, and looked Matt over. He only faintly knew what it was like to work with Matt, but he couldn’t imagine it being an unpleasant experience. He thought of Matt’s fighting abilities then, and took a steady breath before deciding to bring up the subject. “Matt, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” 

Matt tilted his head as if he were trying hear Steve’s thoughts, anticipate the question before it was asked. “Sure,” he responded quietly. 

Steve shifted on the couch, nervously hoping he wasn’t about to cross a line of some sort. “I’ve been wondering; who taught you to fight? Was it your father?” he inquired, gauging Matt’s reaction.

“Uh…no,” Matt breathed, shaking his head lightly. “My dad passed about a year after the accident.” 

Steve’s stomach dropped. “…I’m sorry, I had no idea. Nobody mentioned that at Fogwell’s…” 

“It’s okay, really. You couldn’t have known.” Matt smiled in Steve’s direction, though somewhat forced it was. “No, he didn’t want me to fight. Not at all.” He took off his sunglasses, then, and placed them on the coffee table. Steve was thankful for this, wanting so much to look into the man’s eyes again. 

“How, then? When did you learn?” He pressed on, his urge to better understand Matt Murdock driving him forward. 

Matt swallowed, his fingers fidgeting on the couch. Steve looked up into Matt’s eyes and saw that darkness once again, a brief ghost inside of him. He looked anxious, as if he wasn’t sure that this was a conversation he wanted to get into. 

Still, he obliged, “after my dad was shot I went to an orphanage. I couldn’t control my senses at the time, I heard everything at once, sometimes in pulses and flashes. It was… actually painful. Frightening. And… this man came to see me. Blind, like me, though he was born with it. He called himself Stick. He was the one that trained me.” Matt licked his lips and waited for Steve’s reaction. 

At first Steve could only blink. “What- why? I mean, you were only, what, ten? eleven? What was he training you for?” 

Matt shook his head, and then laughed. “I’m still not completely sure. He…he said there was a war coming, one day. That I would be a soldier. I never really found out much about that war… I tried to get closer to him, and he left. He said that he had expected too much from me.” 

Now Steve felt ill, irate. This man, this “Stick”, who the hell did he think he was to just take hold of a lonely, vulnerable child, one who had lost everything, train him for his own purposes, and then drop him when he didn’t seem to quite measure up.

“That… that’s sick. _Wrong.” _Steve huffed, shaking his head angrily.__

Matt looked up in Steve’s direction, genuinely surprised by his reaction. He opened his mouth to speak, but only exhaled. 

“Look, back in my day there were young, innocent children who were also being trained to fight a war they didn’t understand, also being taught to feel anger against people they didn’t even know, and they were called _Hitler Youth _. It- it wasn’t their fault; they were just kids.” He reached a hand out to Matt and placed it gently on his knee, hoping that Matt wouldn’t misunderstand him and think he was comparing him to a Nazi. “But it was sick of the adults who were supposed to be guiding them to manipulate them in that fashion. Those kids were being used.”__

Matt listened, and then nodded. “I… I understand what you’re saying. I do. Stick… he was an asshole. Probably insane. But, I don’t know where the hell I would be now without him. Nobody else could have helped me, could have taught me how to control the noise. I’ll always be grateful to him for that, even if it hurt when he left.” 

Steve meditated on those words for a moment, and then nodded in return. He pulled his leg up on the couch, twisting his torso so that he could better face Matt. “If you don’t mind me asking, where was your mother through all of this?” 

“I’m not sure. I didn’t know her, really,” Matt answered. 

“Matthew…” Steve sighed, “I’m sorry to hear that.” He lifted his hand off the back of the couch and sheepishly pulled his fingers through a wisp of Matt’s hair. “I didn’t know my father,” said Steve, “he was killed in action before I was born. My mother died when I was younger, too, but not nearly as young as you. I could take care of myself for the most part. Plus, I had my best friend by my side, pretty much the whole way. Buck, he was always there for me, and his family helped me out when they could. I know my mom did the best she could, though, and it sounds like your dad did too.”

Matt nodded, his eyes on the couch. “Yeah well, I’m not sure he’d be very happy with what I’ve become.” 

“I don’t know,” Steve responded softly, smiling. “I’m willing to bet that he would.”

There was a delicate quiet in the air as a gentle smile briefly caught the corner of Matt’s mouth. Steve took a slow breath, scooting in a little closer toward him. He allowed his fingers to stroke down the scruff of Matt’s cheek, and Matt’s eyelashes fluttered. Steve’s hand caressed around the back of Matt’s neck, and he slowly pulled him in for a small, modest kiss, then a second, more ardent one that Matt eagerly reciprocated. Kissing Matt felt so damn right, Steve couldn’t help but kick himself for not doing so more often. 

Matt then drew his leg up onto the couch as well and Steve pulled him in close, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He smelled Matt’s hair, massaged his fingers into the man’s back muscles, a hunger building. He wanted to make love to Matt, this time truly and completely. He found himself terrified at the thought though; he wasn’t exactly the most experienced lover. Before his transformation he had not been popular with women, they pretty much stared over his head. After, well, it wasn’t too long before he went to sleep for several decades. He tilted Matt’s chin up towards him and kissed him again gently, lingering on those lips just to be as close to them as possible. After the kiss Matt looked up at him with his large, indefinite eyes as if Steve had started a sentence and now he was just waiting for him to finish it. 

“I can hear your heart beating.” Matt whispered. 

“You can?” Steve asked, surprised, though he knew he shouldn’t be. Matt nodded and licked his lips. 

“…What’s it sound like?” Steve asked softly, his voice deep and rough. 

“You’re scared, but excited. Your breath is shallow, quick… your anticipating. And…” Matt let his lips part slightly for a moment, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as if he were tasting the air. “Your aroused,” his voice trembled softly. “…I think you want to fuck me.” 

Steve felt a thunderous jolt in his groin at those words, and his hips reared slightly at the sensation. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “And what do you want, Matt?” He asked, nuzzling under the man’s jaw, dragging the tip of his nose along the stubble on his neck. 

In response, Matt trailed kisses across Steve’s jawline and onto his chin, adjusting his bodyweight so that his hardening cock pressed into Steve’s leg. Steve inhaled through his teeth, a hushed moan escaping. He pulled Matt up and off the couch and nearly threw him over his shoulder and carried him into the bedroom, stopping just at the foot of the bed to fling him down onto the mattress. A look of shock briefly swept across Matt’s face, and was then replaced by a devilish grin. Steve crawled on top of him, tugging off Matt’s shirt and then his own. He immediately began to attack the man’s chest with eager kisses, tugging Matt’s hips up off the bed and close to his. Matt panted and moaned under him as Steve trailed sloppy kisses further and further downward, stopping just under his belly button where his waistband began. 

To Matt’s surprise the man then hungrily buried his face into the crotch of his pants, his nose and cheek rubbing against the solid bulge that pulsed in them. He took in the other man’s scent and placed imprecise kisses on the area. Matt squirmed and growled, unable to keep his composure. Steve undid Matt’s pants and yanked them down below his hips, then his boxer briefs. Matt’s cock sprung free and he moaned lightly, his eyelids fluttering shut. 

Steve felt drunk, possessed. He grabbed a hold of Matt’s cock and caressed it with his thumb, examining and admiring it. He allowed himself to place soft kisses down the shaft, and Matt’s cock twitched in reaction, Matt stifling another moan. Steve watched as a bead of precome formed on the tip, trickling down the side. He found his mouth watering, and he allowed the tip of his tongue to reach out, licking Matt’s cock lightly at first, then lapping at it. Matt’s fingers tangled into Steve’s hair and he writhed under him, his abdomen radiating an impressive heat. 

Steve finally found his lips curling around the tip, his tongue massaging against the head. He slowly took more and more of the other man into his mouth, surprised by how much he enjoyed the firmness of it on his lips. He sucked gently, his mouth filling with saliva and precome.

“F-fuck…” Matt hissed, “You have to stop or I-I’m going to…” he stammered, attempting to wriggle out from under the other man to avoid the inevitable. Steve pinned his hips to the bed, though, bobbing his head up and down, finding a rhythm that felt right. He felt dizzy with arousal, his own erection pressing uncomfortably into the mattress. He was eager to see Matt come again, wanted him to come now. 

Matt’s hips rolled as best they could under Steve’s weight, and he gave into the rhythm, matching it. His breath was shallow and ragged, and Steve felt Matt’s body tense beneath him as he neared his climax. Steve moaned around Matt’s cock in anticipation, and the vibration sent the other man over the edge. 

_“Oh, god!” _Matt gritted out as his hands violently twisted in Steve’s hair, his hips pumping his hot pleasure into Steve’s mouth. The sensation was a bit of a surprise to Steve and he parted his lips, allowing the orgasm to splash onto Matt’s lower abdomen.__

Then Steve wiped his mouth across Matt’s stomach and crawled up to steal a kiss, though Matt was still recovering. “You’re stunning.” He whispered into Matt’s ear, and Matt laughed weakly. Steve undid his own pants as he sucked on Matt’s earlobe, his own cock painfully hard. He briefly climbed off the bed to pull off his pants, and a slight sense of relief rushed over him as his erection was freed. He pulled Matt’s pants the rest of the way off as well. 

Steve looked over Matt’s body, now completely naked. He felt breathless, almost alarmingly so, but he sure as hell didn’t want to stop now. This level of desire was scary to him, and the only thing he could think of was being as close as possible to the other man’s body. Matt lifted his head, seemingly perplexed by the silence and lack of contact. 

Matt’s words boomeranged through Steve’s head, _I think you want to fuck me _. His cock twitched. He headed for the bedside table and checked the drawers for a lubricant, more relieved than he wanted to admit when he located a small travel-sized bottle of lotion. He climbed back onto the bed, and Matt rolled onto his stomach as if he could read his mind.__

Steve spread the lotion liberally over himself, the coolness of it a relief on his heated flesh. He took a shaky breath, his fingers grasping Matt’s hips and then slowly lifting them up towards him. His head reeled as he stroked the tip of his cock against Matt’s backside, feeling the contact of smooth warm skin. Slowly, he began to push in, allowing Matt to relax around him. He groaned as he sunk in deeper, deep as he could get. At first he didn’t thrust, he just sat there, enjoyed being deep inside of Matt Murdock, his hips rocking gently from side to side. 

“Nnngh…” Matt whined and bit his lip, pushing back against the larger man. _“Steve, please…” ___

Steve began to pull in and out, slowly, relishing in the warmth and tightness of the other man. He shivered as he felt the hair on his neck stand pleasantly on end, shock after shock of arousal hitting his core. “God, Matt… You’re so tight…” he whimpered. He rubbed his hand firmly down Matt’s back, feeling the muscles ripple with each plunge. 

He dug his fingertips into Matt’s hips, looking down and watching himself pull in and out of Matt’s voluptuous behind. His face was hot, and he bit down on his own bottom lip feverishly. As the pleasure built, so did the energy between them that he almost didn’t know what to do with. 

Steve dragged his teeth down Matt’s back, one arm wrapping around to stroke his chest and stomach. Matt growled Steve’s name when the other man’s hand found his cock, hard again, a fist wrapping tightly around it. Each thrust into Matt sent dizzying jolts to Steve’s prostate, and he knew he couldn’t hold out for long.

_“Steve…” _Matt breathed into the sheets, his back arching and flexing as he took the man. Each decisive thrust forced a heated gasp from Matt’s lips, his body trembling.__

Steve whimpered behind Matt, shaky and elated. _“You love it, don’t you Matt, taking my cock.” _He hissed, surprising himself and blushing with those perverted words.__

Matt practically roared beneath him, panting. _“Yeah, fuck me,” _he said, pushing back against Steve even harder.__

Matt’s fingers were wrapped up in the loose sheets below them, his eyes shut tight. _“Fuck!” _he gritted as he came for a second time in Steve’s hand, and Steve couldn’t help but lose it himself. He thrust violently into the man in front of him, screwing his hips in deep, biting down on the back of Matt’s neck as he came. His cry was animalistic, a harsh growl that shook his whole body.__

The orgasm seemed to last forever, and then he was whimpering into Matt’s neck, trying not to suffocate the man under his weight. He caught his breath and pulled out gently, collapsing next to Matt on the bed. “Matt…” he sighed, stunned. “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He could feel Matt tiring next to him, his body relaxing and his breath slowing. “Come here,” Steve whispered, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in close. He listened to the man’s steady breath for a little while, basking in his own euphoria. _“Matthew…” _He whispered as he nuzzled into the man’s hair. He was falling in love with this man.__

~~~

Matt awoke early in the morning, tangled up in Steve’s scratchy cotton sheets. He felt behind him for Steve, just before he heard him exit the bathroom.

“You’re awake early,” said Steve with a smile.

“Did you sleep at all?” Matt asked, rolling over in the bed to face him. He could smell the other man’s skin from across the room, still heavy and rich with sex. 

“Yeah, actually. For a couple of hours anyways.” Steve answered. He sat down next to Matt on the bed and reached out a hand to smooth down the other man’s messy hair. “You’re kind of a wild sleeper,” he chuckled. 

Matt grinned shyly and then yawned, “Sorry, I haven’t slept in a bed with anyone else for quite a while. What time is it?” 

“About 6am,” Steve reported as he climbed into the bed to wriggle up beside to Matt. 

“Mm. I should probably head home and get ready for work…” said Matt, though he allowed Steve to pull him in closer anyways. 

“You could stay a little longer, we could… take a shower here… I could give you a ride home after…” Steve tried coyly, placing a small kiss on Matt’s shoulder. The level of brazenness that he had sported last night during their tryst was now much more subdued, his polite demeanor taking the wheel yet again. 

Matt bit his bottom lip and then mulled it over, the heat already rising in his groin. “Okay, but you have to drive slow.” 

It wasn’t long before they were both crammed into Steve’s small shower and Matt was on his knees, rapidly pulling the other man in and out of his mouth. Steve stammered Matt’s name tangled up with other obscenities into the streaming water like a prayer while he firmly massaged the back of Matt’s neck. Matt had one fist wrapped around Steve’s cock and one wrapped around his own, and when Matt came at Steve’s feet and groaned around Steve’s cock the other man’s release wasn’t far behind. They sat like that for a minute or two; Matt kneeling on the shower floor with his cheek pressed against Steve’s thigh, Steve gently rubbing Matt’s neck as he gazed down at him. Their pose might have been strikingly reminiscent of some great painting from the Italian Renaissance had the whole scene been not quite so pornographic. 

~~~

“So, how’s your shoulder doing?” Foggy inquired, taking a sip of his bourbon. “I haven’t really gotten a chance to ask with Karen around the office. You know I hate keeping things from her, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know.” Matt sighed. “Uh… still sore. Improving, though. I’m getting used to it, the feeling of the bullet being in there.” 

“Um… you can feel it in there?” Foggy asked, thoroughly dismayed. “Is that… normal?”

Matt paused, his vacant black glasses denying the low light of the bar. “I don’t know, I have distant memories of what normal feels like, and those even are probably contestable.”

Foggy just stared at him. Though Matt couldn’t see him, he imagined a look that was a mix of shock and revulsion as he continued on. “And you’re just going to leave it in there? Forever?” Foggy raised his voice. “Is _that _normal?”__

“It’s not uncommon, actually. Bullets are often left in the body when their presence poses less of a risk than their removal would. If there’s no damage being done…” Matt explained.

“And do you know for sure that there isn’t any damage being done?” Foggy asked, combing his fingers through his own hair in distress. 

Matt couldn’t really answer that, so he just pursed his lips and lightly shrugged. Not convincing, but a reaction nonetheless. They sat in an awkward silence, Foggy apparently unwilling to pursue the subject any further. 

This was fine with Matt, he had another topic in mind for discussion. He took a slow, long drink of his beer, and then sighed. “Listen, Foggy; I have something to tell you; it’s… something I’ve kept from you for a long time.” He started reluctantly, fidgeting with his tie. 

“Oh Jesus.” Foggy dropped his face into his hands and massaged his eyes. “This something isn’t crazy and life-threatening is it?”

“No, it’s not like that.” Matt responded nervously, wetting his lips. 

“Alright,” Foggy sighed and looked back up at him. “Lay it on me…”

“Okay,” Matt sat up in his chair and then took another swig of his beer. “You remember Jacob, back in college? That guy I was tutoring for a couple of weeks during our third year?”

“Yeah…” Foggy responded, slightly confused.

“Well, all those times I went over to his room, we weren’t really studying. Him and I were… kind of fooling around.”

“Oh.” said Foggy, blinking. 

“And… Timothy, that guy that spent a lot of time around our room for a few days, and then suddenly stopped showing up?” Matt sighed, “yeah, same thing.”

“So… Steve isn’t the first guy you’ve… dated.” Foggy surmised. Matt just shook his head, his lips in a tight line. 

Foggy was quiet for a little while as he mulled over the new information. “You can be so secretive, Matt. Sometimes, I just don’t know what the hell to do with it…”

Matt turned his gaze to the table. He didn’t mean to be that way; it was just something he did. Without much effort he only ever let people see him at face value, afraid that if people knew who he really was that they would no longer want anything to do with him. 

Foggy eyed Matt closely, his voice softening. “Look, Matt…I get it, I guess. Though I can’t say it doesn’t hurt that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. I really don’t give a shit who you date, man or woman. Why didn’t you just say something back then?”

“And what? Just announce one day, ‘Foggy, I’m attracted to guys’?” Matt effectively whispered across the table. “You’re telling me you would have been just fine with that?”

“Um, yeah!” Foggy announced. “I’m not Catholic, remember? Not a homophobe! Buddy, don’t you know me at all?” He reached out his hand and gave Matt’s arm a friendly shake. 

Matt sat back in his chair. “I’m sorry…I don’t know; I think maybe I just didn’t want to say it out loud.”

“Write me a note then,” Foggy announced, throwing his hands in the air. “Whatever you got to do to get your message across. If you absolutely had to, you could have even drawn a little picture. That might have confused the hell out of me, though, if you had just drawn two dudes going at it and handed it to me…wait, can you even draw?”

“Not so much.” Matt chuckled. “…I guess for the longest time I avoided even thinking about the subject myself... there has definitely been a pattern of activity throughout my life...” 

Foggy nodded. “So, what’s the deal then? Are you… gay? Because if you are then I totally support you.” 

Matt shifted in his chair. “I… I really don’t know what I am. To me, people are just people. I fall in love with voices, scents, personalities. I did have a little crush on a friend of mine before the accident… but there’s no way of knowing what is and isn’t affected by the fact that I don’t see men and women.” 

“Cool. You are who you are Matty. Jesus, sometimes you’re so fucking hard on yourself…” Foggy sighed just before he knocked back the rest of his drink. “You’re like one of those… Flagellators.”

“What…?” Matt cocked his head, and then giggled, “You mean _Flagellants?” ___

“Yeah, whatever. You knew what I meant. The guys that whipped themselves. Hey you want another drink?”

“Nah,” Matt smiled. “I think I’m ready to call it a night.” 

“Okay, let me hail you a cab, then,” said Foggy as he clapped the back of Matt’s shoulder. 

~~~ 

As soon as Steve reached the top of his stairwell he sensed that something was amiss. He halted just in front of his door, his eyes scanning the frame for signs of a disturbance. He had been out for a late night run, one that stretched approximately 17 miles, roundtrip. His breath was only slightly labored, yet he still held it so that he could attempt to hear what might be taking place in his apartment. He approached the door softly, gently resting a hand on it as he listened. After a moments pause he heard nothing, and so he quietly extracted his keys. As soon as he entered the room, however, he saw Tony Stark standing by the window, casually rifling through his things. 

“Hey there, Cap. Nice place you got here. Big improvement on that giant super tower I built.” Tony greeted. 

“It suits me fine,” Steve declared without humor. “What are you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d check in. You know, in the neighborhood and all. Heard your friend chose to go back in the cooler. That must have been a bummer,” said Tony. 

“That was Bucky’s choice.” Steve retorted, aggravation creeping in. “He did what he thought was right and I stand by his decision.” 

Tony nodded with extra fervor and shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “So, what else is new? Anything? New job? Friends?” 

Steve sighed. “What do you want, Tony?” 

“Like I said, just checking in. Oh and hey, the Accords, still a thing by the way.” Tony said, pulling out his phone and flicking an image into the air. It was Steve and Daredevil in the alleyway, clashing with the human traffickers. “You don’t get to ignore them just because you didn’t sign up.” 

“…Have you been watching me?” Steve replied, a queasy disgust growing in his gut. 

“Little bit. I mean, I wouldn’t call it that, sounds bad,” said Tony. “I gotta say, I am just a tad jealous that you went out and found a new super friend so quickly- in a red suit, nonetheless. I didn’t think I’d be that easy to get over...” he meandered, un-phased by Steve’s piercing eyes. 

“Daredevil, right?” Tony continued. “A little Evel Knievel-y, but to each his own.” He eyed Steve, and then continued, “So the blind thing, is that all an act to throw people off the scent or-“

In an instant Steve grabbed Tony by his lapel, nearly lifting him off the floor. _“Leave him out of this!” _He bellowed, “If you mess with him, I swear to god, Stark!”__

“Relax, Rogers!” Tony choked, “I get it, messing around with him is your thing,” he countered as he pushed away from Steve’s grip, taking a few uncertain steps from the man and straightening his jacket. 

“Jesus, you’re like a walking bad action film,” Tony said, regaining his calm demeanor. “I’m not here to arrest you or your new friend. I’m here to warn you. You can’t just go around doing whatever the hell you want. Things have changed. If you’re not careful, someone will come for you, and him too.” 

“I’d like to see them try,” Steve retorted, turning to step in to the kitchen. He twisted on the faucet and grabbed a glass. 

“Well, we all know that it’d be a chore to take you down,” said Tony, “but what about your new boy toy? The least you can do is pass the warning on to him. I have a feeling you’ll only be able to pull off that whole ‘breaking my friends out of a massive underwater prison’ thing once.” 

“No one is going to take him down either, not while I’m around.” Steve replied, his eyes severe. 

Tony was quiet for a moment, and then he sneered, “God, your so bull-headed, Rogers. I’m trying to help you. You don’t have to go all Terminator just because of one guy!” 

Steve leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest and briefly wandering what “going Terminator” meant. 

“What is it with you and these guys, by the way? You’re like a teenage girl when it comes to troubled men.” Tony muttered, and Steve felt his ears start to burn. 

“Shut up, Tony.” He growled, his eyes on the floor. “I think you should leave. If you don’t… I’ll show you out.” 

“Struck a nerve, did I?” Tony replied, casually drumming his fingers on the table. “So that’s your weakness, Rogers? Handsome, damaged men? By the way, pretty guy, that Matthew Murdock. Didn’t think that was your type. I probably wouldn’t kick him out of bed either, if I was in the right mood.” 

Steve’s upper lip twitched and his knuckles went white, his breath becoming ragged. He didn’t want to fight Tony anymore. Deep down, he knew there was some truth to what the man was saying, even if he was a smug bastard. “Please,” Steve begged through clenched teeth, “Just go.” He felt Tony watching him, studying him. He didn’t dare look up, though, his distress like an admission of guilt.

“Alright, Rogers. I’m going.” Tony finally conceded. He headed toward the door, Steve still refusing to make eye contact. Just before he left, he paused and glanced over at Steve once more. “Take care of yourself, okay Cap?” he said, true sincerity and concern creeping into his usually sardonic tone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Matt and Steve are beginning to fall in love, trouble arises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter is oh-so-explicit. NSFW.

Matt sat in the middle of his living room, deep in meditation, when there was an ardent knock at the door. Could be Foggy, maybe, though Foggy usually verbalized his arrival, even after he learned of Matt’s abilities. Matt cocked his head and listened, trying to assess his visitor. Robust heartbeat, deep breath, definitely a man… he caught a whiff of Steve’s aftershave, and felt a little spark in his stomach. He climbed to his feet and grabbed his sweatshirt off the couch, throwing it on but neglecting to zip it. He was in his underwear, and after a moments contemplation he decided it would be redundant to scramble for a pair of pants, given he had spent so much time in front of Steve in only underwear (or less) as it was. 

“Hi, Steve,” He grinned as he opened the door.

Steve paused, and Matt felt his eyes looking him up and down. “Hey, Matt,” He offered softly. The man’s heartbeat still went wild when he saw him. “Can I come in?” Steve asked. 

There was something somber in his voice, definitely a cause for concern. “Sure.” Matt said, opening the door further and allowing the man to enter. “Is something wrong?” he asked, not wanting to dance around the inevitable conversation. A deep, distant voice in him couldn’t help but fear that this was already the beginning of the end for the two of them. 

Steve sighed and dropped his head. “A friend showed up last night, or, a former colleague I suppose. He… he knew about you. About us…” 

Matt cocked his head. “How… how is that possible?” he asked. 

“Well, this guy has a lot of money, and technology,” Steve surmised, “I guess he’s been keeping an eye on me.” He turned to look at Matt. “I think your safe, though… Tony, he wouldn’t turn you in.” The concern that dappled his voice wasn’t exactly the most comforting. 

Matt deliberated, and then clarified, “Tony Stark.” He turned and headed further into the living room, and Steve’s eyes couldn’t help but wander down to the man’s voluptuous behind; if Steve hadn’t had other things on his mind he would have liked to tackle him and bite it. 

Steve nodded. “Look, Matt…” he began, following him, “Other people could be watching. I need you to be careful. When we first met, when I found you in that alley… if that had been someone else you could be in a top security prison right now.” he said, planting himself just in front of Matt.

Matt gave a nod. “You want me to stop putting on the suit,” he realized aloud. 

Steve was quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to ask you to do that,” he admitted. “I just… I don’t want to see you taken away, hauled off somewhere...” Steve reached out his hand and softly ran the side of his finger up Matt’s solid stomach, creating a trail of goosebumps. “I don’t know what I’d do…” he confessed, nearly to himself. His finger continued to trace up Matt’s chest and then Adam’s apple, stopping to rest just under his chin. “Come here…” he mumbled, guiding Matt closer for a soft, tender kiss. 

Matt obliged, gladly accepting, but then he turned his cavernous eyes back up to Steve’s. “I can’t stop, Steve,” he said. “I mean… I can’t turn it off, the sounds of people suffering. I hear it every night. I can’t just ignore them; I’d lose my mind.” 

“But you can’t help anyone from a jail cell, either.” Steve stated. “As a lawyer, at least, you can still help the people that need you. And without sacrificing yourself.” 

“The law doesn’t always work; you know that,” Matt urged. “The government, the legal system, the police, it’s all corrupt. Filled to the brim with dishonest people.”

“There are plenty of people who are still honest, Matthew,” Steve pleaded. “Plenty of good people who want to do the right thing.” 

“I’m a little surprised you still believe that.” Matt responded softly. “After all you’ve seen. And, people lie everyday… I can hear it.” 

Steve was silent for a moment. He had to admit to himself that ever since the fall of Shield, the ongoing survival of Hydra, ever since the Accords, he was having a harder time with the idea. “I’ve always put my money on people,” he finally answered. “That’s something that I _have _to believe in, or I’d probably lose it.”__

“A while ago you told me you were given that body, that it was your responsibility to use it to help others, until it was no longer possible for you to do so…” Matt rested his forehead against Steve’s, his fingers raking soothingly through the man’s hair. “I feel the same way. I tried to ignore it, once. I listened to a man sexually abuse his daughter, for Christ’s sake. I can’t go back.” 

Steve surrendered, nuzzling his nose into Matt’s. _“Damn it.” _he whispered. “Then you have to promise me that you’ll be even more careful. Maybe you go out less. Compromise with me somehow, Matty.”__

How was it that everyone in his life, even in adulthood, ended up calling him “Matty”? The moniker tugged at his heart, recalling the voices of both his father and Stick. Hell, even Foggy used it sometimes. “I’ll try.” He swallowed. 

“Thank you,” Steve whispered, reaching his hands into Matt’s open sweatshirt and wrapping his arms around his bare back. The coolness of Steve’s leather jacket on Matt’s skin caused him to briefly shiver, and Steve pulled him in close to kiss his Adam’s apple.

“So, um…” Matt stammered, melting easily into the other man’s arms, “is that all you came here for?” 

Steve smirked against his neck, his teeth grazing against the thin skin. The sensation was enough to distract Matt from their distressing discussion, and he felt the kinetic energy begin it’s build between them. He found Steve’s lips for a deep kiss, pulsing his tongue against Steve’s to make him unsteady and weak. 

Steve broke the kiss, drawing in a steadying breath. “You know, I haven’t really gotten the chance to see your bedroom yet,” he smirked, his voice thick and woody. 

Matt loved the timber of Steve’s voice, the way it vibrated in him when he was pressed up against the man’s chest. It was comforting and grounding; a low, steadfast tenor. He grinned and then grabbed Steve’s hand, leading him into the bedroom and confidently parking him just beside the bed. He sensed Steve briefly glancing about the room, and then his gaze was back on Matt. 

Matt could already smell the sex, taste it. This was a frequent inconvenience for him only in the way that he would often become heavily aroused far quicker than his partners. At times he found it almost unsettling, uncomfortable even; he would become so intoxicated with it that he would begin to feel almost frenzied. He found it hard to pace himself when his body wanted so desperately to experience what his senses were already interpreting full force. 

Matt undressed Steve quickly, voraciously even. He let the other man’s jacket fall to the floor, then the t-shirt, pausing only briefly to drag his fingers down the man’s thick, sturdy chest. Matt caught hold of his breath as it began to quiver with overstimulation. 

Steve could no longer stand being hands off himself, and he tugged Matt’s smaller frame in close, pressing their hips together firmly. Matt felt the dragging edge of denim through his boxer briefs, felt the desperate swell of his own cock against Steve’s through the fabric barrier. He started for Steve’s button and fly, eager for the perfect friction of skin on skin. 

Once Steve’s pants were successfully off he sat on the edge of bed, his fingers tugging at the waistband of Matt’s underwear until they easily slid down his thighs. He pulled Matt on top of him and unveiled one of his bare shoulders, kissing it lightly before resolving to pull off the sweatshirt entirely. Matt found his lips for a hungry kiss, and he felt Steve’s hands slide down his back, grabbing two large handfuls of his behind. He kneaded his fingertips into the supple flesh, inciting a moan from Matt that vibrated in both of their mouths. 

Matt found himself frotting against the man, content with the warm friction until Steve suddenly flipped him over and pinned him onto his back. He missed the contact, blunt though it was, but he was still eager to see what Steve had planned. 

He felt the other man’s stout fingers pressing into the inside of his thighs, both stroking and spreading them simultaneously. Matt’s cock pulsed in anticipation, his sense of the other man’s body heat throbbing on his flesh with each heartbeat.

Steve rhythmically stroked his fingertips up and down the inside of Matt’s thighs, his breath beginning to hasten with his own building arousal. Matt couldn’t help but squirm under his touch; the hand came so damn close to the source of his frustration that he could feel the ghost of its heat against his balls, yet it passed on by, massaging up his lower stomach. 

Matt bit his lip and whined, his cock flexing. He could smell the precome dripping off Steve and onto the silk sheets, knew that he wanted it badly too. But the man was teasing him, and thoroughly enjoying it. Perhaps there was a bit of a dark side to Steve after all; perhaps Matt coaxed it out of him.

Desire radiated from Matt’s groin to his belly, wrapping down and around his lower back and thighs. It was like a coal bed, a slow smolder devouring him. He felt Steve lean forward, closer to the source of his frustration. Matt bit down on his bottom lip again, chewing, waiting. A warm breath graced the tip, the visage of lips so close that he truly ached for them to make contact, warm and wet. 

_“Fuck, come on, Steve…” _he pleaded, his hips gently rolling of their own accord. Steve stroked his smooth, clean-shaven cheek up against the tip of Matt’s cock then, smearing the slick of precome that welled there, and Matt broiled inside, his balls truly throbbing. There were a few light kisses to the shaft, loving and tender, but Matt wanted more.__

“Sorry, I don’t want you to come just yet,” answered Steve. “Hold out a little longer for me, okay?”

Matt thought he might spontaneously combust if he couldn’t get some relief from all the pent up energy coursing through him. Then, he heard Steve spit lightly into his hand, and a moment later a cool, slick finger was sliding into him. Steve rotated his finger slowly inside of Matt and then wiggled it, causing Matt’s senses to explode. 

_“Oh, god!” _Matt trembled, needing more. He bared down on Steve’s finger, and he heard Steve’s breath hitching, his heart racing. Steve pulled his finger in and out slowly at first, tortuously, experience Matt’s body and exploring the depths of his own sexuality.__

Matt closed his lips tightly and moaned, both loving and hating the wanton torture. He reached a hand out for himself, but Steve stopped him. “Not yet, just wait a little longer….” Steve breathed. He soothingly rubbed his other hand up Matt’s abdomen, feeling the muscles tighten with anticipation as Matt’s body coiled taut. To Matt it had the opposite effect, however; each building touch was just further torture until it was directed at his cock, now engorged and tingling. 

A second finger was introduced, and Steve’s pace quickened eagerly. Matt could feel the cool beads of precome trickling down his shaft, and he heard Steve suck in a hiss of approval. He had to be wanting it as badly as Matt, and he certainly hadn’t touched himself yet either. He wondered how much more of this Steve would be able to take himself before he would have to relent and fuck Matt properly. 

Steve found a rhythm with his fingers that turned Matt into a quivering mess; a series of quick and feverish thrusts that then alternated with slow, thorough pulses against the sensitive nerves inside him. Matt found himself catching and holding his breath and then releasing it in gasps, his whole body gently shaking. 

_“P-please…” _Matt whimpered, “Steve, please just fuck me!”__

Steve panted at the words, and his fingers withdrew. To Matt’s relief, Steve finally grabbed him by the hips, pulling his thighs in closer and tilting his bottom half upward. Matt shivered and growled as Steve finally pushed himself inside. 

_“God!” _Steve groaned, sounding like he was already close to climaxing. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, pumping into Matt with reserve so that he could last just a little bit longer.__

Matt threw his head back on the pillow and relished in it, loving the feeling of Steve filling him up, stretching him tight. Precome prickled at sensitive skin as it trickled down his shaft, and he wanted so badly to feel the contact of Steve’s rough touch against him, a slick hand fondling. Once again he attempted to reach for his own erection, but Steve grabbed his hand and pinned both wrists lightly above his head as he fucked him. Matt could have fought it, but he found he truly didn’t want to. He enjoyed being dominated, the torturous thin line between ache and ecstasy. 

Steve grunted with each breath as his pace frenzied, reaching deep inside Matt, screwing his hips in feverishly. Matt couldn’t help but cry out, curse, and then beg for more. He was so close to the edge, only needed a little friction to set him off. Steve still wasn’t providing it though, not just yet.

Fingertips dug into the fleshy part of his hip, sharp and grounding, and one of Matt’s legs was slung up over Steve’s shoulder. Steve pressed feverish kisses against the inside of Matt’s leg, rubbed his cheek against the hair on his leg. 

He fucked Matt full force then, his grunts turning into heated whines. Finally, he reached out and closed a fist around Matt’s cock, just as he was about to come himself. _“Matt!” _Steve cried as he came hard, sending Matt over the edge at virtually the same time. Matt’s own orgasm crashed over him so intensely that he dug his heel into the bedsheets, his balls tightening with each wave of release so powerfully that it was almost painful. Come splashed across his belly and chest in ribbons as he felt Steve filling him up.__

They gasped and roared in their airspace, their breaths crashing in time. Matt didn’t care that Steve strained his leg uncomfortably as he leaned into him, pushing his joints past their usual flexibility. He tried to catch the man’s gasping mouth with his own, close his lips around Steve’s so they shared a scream. 

Steve slumped beside Matt, then, his head tucked under Matt’s chin. His fingers traced over Matt’s chest tenderly, dragging through beads of sweat and come. Matt could feel Steve trembling lightly, soft tremors that subsided as his heartbeat slowed again. 

“You’re kind of a pervert…” Matt smirked at the ceiling. 

Steve chuckled, breathy and spent. “Who’d of thought?” he responded.

~~~ 

Steve lie awake in Matt’s bed, his lover curled up beside him. Matt slipped into slumber fairly easily after sex, content and fulfilled, enjoying both the pleasurable and painful bombardment of sensory information and then the quiet peace that followed. For Steve it wasn’t that easy; his body was made to withstand unheard of amounts fatigue, built to outlast even the strongest of men. He didn’t mind watching Matt sleep, though. He was content to lie next to him. 

Steve looked over the features that he had begun to grow so fond of; his soft lips, his long eyelashes. The man’s eyelids twitched softly as he slept; dreaming. He wondered if Matt dreamt just the way everyone else did. Were his dreams based on his other four senses, lacking in visual detail, or was he finally able to see again, just as he once had so long ago? Did he enjoy a reprieve from the barrage of perceptions, or did the commotion follow him into his sleep, as well? 

As Matt dreamed, Steve imagined another life in which he had met the man much earlier. He imagined meeting Matt back in the 40’s, if it could have been. How would his life have been different? Would he have settled down, grown content with the ordinary day-to-day he had been leading? 

Steve entertained glimmers in his mind of a domestic scene, him and Matt, a small lawn, how dapper Matt would have looked in suspenders. He imagined introducing Matt to the old Bucky, the one he lost so long ago. Hell, since it was all a fantasy, he envisioned introducing Matthew to his mother. A polite, no-nonsense kind of guy with an inspiring smile, she would have loved him. 

Steve had responsibilities, and he would never shirk them. His role was too important. But for that moment, he allowed himself to want these other things, to wish that they could have been. Matt would have been able to see, and there would be holidays, countless spring nights with the bedroom window cracked open, and eventual old age. Everyone they knew would have said Matt only grew more charming with age.

This, of course, was all a fantasy. A farce, really. But Steve wanted this moment, and he did his best to not think of the harsh realities that also would have been. Matt being enlisted. The repercussions of two men living together at that time. 

Hell, none of it was a possibility, anyways. He reminded himself of this as an image of Matt in a uniform manifested into the corner of his thoughts, forcing it’s way in. He closed his eyes, wishing he could fall asleep on the image of Matt and he in this incredible and impossible scene, but he couldn’t. Instead, he just resolved to watch the other man sleep yet again, hopeful that maybe Matt was having a decent dream. 

~~~

Steve stayed with Matt until he had to leave for work in the morning. They enjoyed a modest breakfast together and showered, temporarily basking in the guise of domesticity. Steve watched Matt with endless fascination as he located one of his suits and dressed, he watched as he secured his tie and combed his hair. Matt would occasionally grin shyly to himself, knowing that the man was watching him so attentively, and Steve would return the smile each time, even if Matt couldn’t see it. He had a feeling that Matt just knew, somehow, when he was smiling. 

“Hey, I put my number in your phone. You know, in case you need me.” Steve announced casually with his hands in his pockets, just before Matt was about to head out the door. 

Matt grabbed his walking stick and smirked. “What will you do then, when you need me?” 

~~~

It wasn’t even 24 hours later that Matt did go out again as Daredevil. Truthfully, he felt the threads of guilt tugging on him even as he put on the armor, but he really felt it was a necessity. He reasoned that he _would _be more careful, just as he had promised Steve. Maybe he would even go out less, at some point.__

It was about an hour into his patrol that he heard some disconcerting news, however. He caught the words in the air, turned them over in his head, but he couldn’t seem to fathom them. 

He was in the suit, ten stories up, scanning for information. He mentally sorted through the conversations, the sounds of transportation, the radios playing. There didn’t seem to be much of interest, until the word _Rogers _crossed the threshold. He focused in.__

_Rogers. We finally got the son of a bitch _. Matt froze, held his breath and listened. The words had been garbled, fuzzy, as if spoken through a private transmission. A cop car? A walkie talkie? Certainly there were other Rogers’ in the city, it didn’t have to be Steve.__

Steve was a powerhouse, practically invincible. He fought an alien army, singlehandedly broke his friends out of a top security prison, survived 70 years frozen in ice. There was no way in hell that they got him. Still, Matt headed in the direction of Steve’s apartment, his stomach tight and breath bated. 

This time he didn’t have to break the window, Steve had left it unlocked. Probably for Matt’s convenience, just in case he needed to get in. Matt’s anxiety ran rampant, but he still expected to barge in on a surprised Steve, safe in his apartment. 

Steve wasn’t there, though. Matt took off his mask and listened for signs of life, and then called out his name, hoping like hell the man would come rushing out of the bedroom. Each passing second of silence meant that Matt’s fears might not be unfounded after all. He walked into the bedroom, smelling the air for anything suspicious. No one else had been there, nothing seemed to be amiss. 

Matt ungloved his hand and placed it on the bed; it was still made. No information could be gathered from this, really, since Steve didn’t sleep like a regular man. Matt knew that Steve often spent nights training. It was very likely that he was simply out, maybe even at Fogwell’s. He contemplated going over there, checking the place for his lover. Steve also went out for the occasional late night run, though, and thus he could be anywhere. 

_Jesus, they got him _, Matt briefly thought to himself, his heart racing. He shook those particular thoughts out of his head, though, still hoping he was wrong. Finally, he crouched down on Steve’s fire escape and analyzed every passing vibration, waited for the man to come home.__

He waited for three hours, though, and there was no sign of Steve. 

At the first sign of morning light, Matt returned home. He climbed back into his own window, his body and mind heavy. He sat down on his bed, still in the suit, and placed his phone beside him, mentally preparing to try Steve’s number, afraid of the outcome that he now felt was certain. Deep down, he knew there wouldn’t be an answer. Finally, Matt picked up the phone and dialed the number that Steve had provided.

Each ring was damning, and the silence that ultimately followed was the final declaration that Matt did not want to accept. 

He couldn’t help but think of how Steve didn’t have his number, how that might have made a difference. What the hell happened? How did they get him? Did he have time to reach for his phone, realize he didn’t have Matt’s number? Did he call out for Matt’s help? 

Matt furiously rubbed at his face, tried to force himself to focus. What could he do. He had to find out what happened to Steve. He had to find Steve, but he didn’t even know where to start looking. He knew well enough that they wouldn’t be taking the world’s first superhero to a regular prison; they certainly had to have some sort of special protocol. He could scan the city for information, hope to grab onto another radio blip, but he couldn’t afford to waste time. If Steve was transferred to “The Raft” then it would be next to impossible for Matt to get to him. 

He had to think fast, act fast. He would need help. 

~~~

Matt waited outside the auditorium until he heard the raucous sound of applause inside. He parked himself at the edge of a side street, a loading area for the likes of performers and entertainers. While he waited, he resolved to try Steve’s number once more; the third time since he returned to his apartment. He didn’t expect an answer, but he still felt himself hollow with distress when the call timed out. After about ten minutes he heard the side door open behind him. 

There was that familiar voice, the one that he had heard so many times garbling across the television. Smug and curt, blasé and obnoxious. A female voice with a fast heartbeat followed alongside, thanking Mr. Stark for his insightful presentation. The woman giggled, flirting unabashedly, and Stark responded, even as he tried to walk away from her. 

There didn’t seem to be anybody with him, no body guards. Then again, why would he need them? Even from some 40ft away Matt could feel a powerful current of electricity emanating off of the man, indicating that he either had some sort of electric weapon on him, or a body modification that remained hidden. 

Finally, Stark made his break from the enthusiastic woman, and Matt heard footsteps heading his way, the power current growing stronger. Just as the man passed by, Matt lunged for him and pushed him up against the wall, his walking stick expanded across Stark’s neck. 

“What the heavenly _fuck? _” Tony choked, automatically grasping for an item on his wrist as he struggled against Matt. He suddenly stopped, studying his attacker. “Oh, it’s you,” he stated with a splash of boredom. “Your Steve’s-“__

“What the hell happened to Steve?” Matt interrupted, gritting his teeth. Deep down, he didn’t suspect that Tony had anything to do with Steve’s disappearance, but he had to know for sure before he attempted to enlist the man. 

Tony was silent at first. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded, a distant alarm creeping into his voice. His heartbeat was not that of a liar’s, a gradually building, pounding thud. It was a sudden hitch and then a decrease, irregular, that of one who is surprised. 

“Two days ago you visited Steve, you warned him, and now he’s gone.” Matt growled, clutching at Tony’s collar and putting pressure on his jugular with the stick. “You don’t know anything about that?” he tried again, giving himself more time to read the man’s heartbeat.

“How do you know he’s missing?” Tony asked, pushing Matt’s hand off of his collar and the stick off his throat.

“ _I know _.” Matt replied, surrendering his grip. “I heard a radio transmission, possibly the police, discussing it. He didn’t return to his apartment last night.”__

“And how did you happen to come across this transmission?” Tony inquired. 

“It… I have exceptional hearing, okay?” Matt huffed, “Look, Steve gave me a number to call, in case I needed him. He didn’t answer. I’m telling you, something happened to him.” 

Tony was quiet. He turned and glanced down the alley, one way, then the other. He then turned back to Matt. _“Damn it…” _he hissed. “Come on, Magoo, we can’t talk about this here.” Tony grabbed Matt by the arm and poorly lead him- dragged him, really- down the alley. “You’re stronger than you look, by the way.” He added superfluously.__

“Where are we going?” Matt demanded, doing his best to not trip over himself or his walking stick as Tony pulled him along. Finally, they came to a stop. “Get in.” Tony offered, walking around to the other side of what Matt assumed was a very expensive car. Matt hesitated. 

“You were all hands a second ago, what’s with the sudden reluctance?” Tony sighed as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “If Rogers was arrested- if- then we can’t just discuss it in the middle of the street like idiots. We’re going somewhere where it’s definitely safe to talk about this.”

Matt relented out of sheer desire to find Steve (and perhaps out of slight curiosity) and felt for the door handle, climbing into the passenger side.

~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Matt found himself in what he could only assume was Tony Stark’s massive living room, waiting impatiently as he listened to the man casually pouring himself a drink. Tony was shaking a tumbler, though Matt felt that his eyes were on him. He felt that he was being studied, evaluated, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet and adjusted his glasses. 

“Sure you don’t want a drink, Matthew?” Tony asked sardonically. Or perhaps that was just his voice; either way, to Matt he came across as one stuck in a perpetual state of mockery. 

“No, I’m good.” Matt retorted, hinting at his aggravation. Then again, Tony was probably the type of guy that took pleasure in that.

There was silence yet again, and Tony took a sip of his cocktail. “So, I know you couldn’t possibly be able to tell this, but I’m actually much more attractive than Steve. He’s actually a little disfigured. Tragic, really, it happened when they put him in the microwave. He wasn’t quite done…” 

Matt blushed, feeling his ears burn, “Can we please talk about Steve?” he protested. 

“Sure, sure.” Tony conceded, stepping around from behind the bar. “Let’s just take a stroll through the latest arrest records, shall we?” he announced. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., federal arrest records within the last 24 hours, please.” Tony requested. Matt felt a sudden whir of energy in the air, and heard the vague sounds of a computer interface coming to life. 

“Now, if they did take down Rogers, which is unlikely, then we should be able to find some sort of record of it,” said Tony. 

“How do you have access to this?” Matt implored. 

_“Shush…” _answered Tony, “I don’t. You didn’t see a thing.”__

Matt rested his hands on his hips; he wasn’t sure if that was intended to be a joke or not, but he chose not to acknowledge it so that he might deny Stark the smug satisfaction. 

There was a minute or two of silence while Tony searched, and then he muttered, “What have we here?” 

Matt cocked his head, “What, what is it?”

Tony continued to read to himself, then responded, “There’s a record here listed only as a number. It’s encrypted, something they want very few people to see.” 

“Can you get in?” Matt asked. 

“Young Matthew, I hacked into the Pentagon when I was fifteen. Just give me a second.” said Tony, and not even a minute later it appeared he had been successful. “Odd, there’s hardly any information here… no name, photo. Only the word “Stalwart”. Hm… now where have I heard that before? F.R.I.D.A.Y, search the database for codename Stalwart.” Tony’s computer interface announced with an accent that it was searching for “Stalwart”, and Matt waited impatiently, ready to jump out of his skin. 

“Interesting. That codename is attached to only a small handful of records… but most of them seem to be associated with the Raft.”

_“The Raft?” _Matt declared, his eyes widening. Steve had referred to the Raft; it was the place that he had feared Matt would end up if he continued to don his armor.__

“It’s a massive underwater prison for the “enhanced,” Tony began to explain.

“Yeah, Steve mentioned it.” Matt muttered. “Is it Steve?” he implored, taking a few steps in Tony’s direction. 

“We can’t know for sure…” Tony answered quietly, his ironic tone finally sobering with the weight of the situation. 

“Stark, do you _think _it’s Steve?” Matt specified irately. This whole thing was moving way too slowly for his liking. He wanted to be doing something.__

Tony was silent, and Matt could practically feel his brain whirring as he weighed the possibilities. “… Probably.” he finally muttered, heading back over to his drink at the bar. 

“We have to help him.” Matt insisted, following after Tony. He heard Stark scoff lightly to himself, swirling the liquid in his glass dismissively. Matt was taken aback by his nonchalance. “You used to fight alongside Steve, you can’t tell me that you would just let them lock him up!”

“Your boyfriend’s best friend murdered my mother, he strangled her to death. I’ll bet Rogers didn’t share that information with you, did he?” Tony announced as he abandoned the bar once again to glare Matt in the face, temporarily forgetting that he couldn’t effectively stare the man down. He backed off when he realized the futility of his actions. 

Matt licked his lips nervously. “No...” he answered quietly. He wasn’t sure what to say; something this big… there was no way he could do this alone. Tony turned his back to Matt and faced the bar, grabbing a hold of his glass again but still not taking a drink. 

“Look, I don’t know what the hell happened between the two of you, but I do know that Steve doesn’t deserve to be locked up.” Matt quieted, the small panic in him rapidly rising as more and more time passed. “ I think you know that, too…” 

“Christ, your just as much of a boy scout as Rogers.” Tony jeered over his shoulder. 

So maybe he was. At this point the only matter of importance to Matt was Steve’s rescue. “…I can’t do this alone.” he admitted, his stomach tightening with a lurking defeat. “Please… I-I'm asking for your help... I love him.” 

Now Tony did take a quick, short drink, his finger then tapping on the edge of the glass. He quietly turned and looked at Matt, studying him intensely. “For the love of…okay, Murdock, I’ll help you.” Tony sighed. “But I’m in charge.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony concocts a plan to help Matt retrieve Steve, and he reaches out for a little help.

Tony spent the next 45 minutes working; typing and searching, humming to himself, requesting assorted tidbits of information from his massive computer system that seemed to exist all around them. Finally, he announced that he had a plan, but that the two of them would need help. He also informed Matt that he was in luck, though, that he knew just who to call. 

Another hour and a half passed, however, and Matt was nearly frenetic waiting with Stark in his gratuitous super tower. The man didn’t know when to shut up, seemed to do too much day-drinking, and the absurd electric source that pulsed form his chest was beginning to give Matt a terrible headache. He felt that Tony Stark’s company was wholly obnoxious; the antithesis of Steve’s. 

“Sure you don’t want a drink, Matthew? You’re quite fidgety. It’s making me nervous, actually,” Tony chattered from behind his bar. 

“No, thank you.” Matt bristled, massaging one side of his temple. He was just beginning to wonder with a churning anxiety if he had only waisted precious time by coming to this man when the elevator announced that a Natasha Romanov had arrived. 

Matt heard the clack of heeled boots entering the room, bypassing Tony and walking straight up to him. “Hi, Matt,” came a smoky female voice, smiling at him. “You probably don’t remember me… I brought a doctor to Steve’s place after you were injured. My name is Natasha, I’m a friend of Steve’s.” She gently reached for his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. 

Matt cleared his throat, a little taken aback by the unabashed kindness. “Um- thanks, i-it’s nice to meet you…” he responded politely. 

“Oh, barf.” Tony interjected from the bar.

“Steve seemed quite taken with you…” Natasha continued, “I was hoping I might get a chance to meet you face to face.”

Matt felt his ears redden slightly, wondering just what Steve had told her; he responded with a vague nod, unsure of what else to say. 

Natasha, then, finally acknowledged Tony. “Alright Stark, what’s going on?” 

“Well, it appears the Captain has been out in the streets, kicking ass with Daredevil here. So much for lying low. Seems you were aware of that, though, given your friendly greeting.” 

“Tony,” Natasha sighed, “just tell me what _happened_. Is Steve in trouble?” 

“Probably. He’s on his way to the Raft, and ‘Blind Lady Justice’ here wants to go after him.” Tony gestured toward Matt, whose lips pulled into a tight white line; he could not afford to get into a fistfight with Stark, at least not until after Steve was safe and sound. After that, well, maybe it was something to look forward to. 

“They got Steve? Are you sure?” asked Natasha, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

“Pretty sure.” responded Tony with a lackadaisical shrug. “There’s an encrypted arrest record, has to be someone high profile, and they are sending said individual to The Raft. And, Murdock here picked up a transmission with his exceptional hearing. He claims that his boyfriend has been missing for a concerning amount of time.” 

The elevator again interrupted the conversation, _begging their pardon_ , and announced the arrival of a Sam Wilson.

Matt heard heavy, booted footsteps, and then, “What do you want, Stark?” the man grumbled, obviously displeased that he had been summoned. Matt couldn’t help but notice that Tony didn’t appear to evoke the most positive of reactions from his colleagues. “And what are you doing here? I thought you were on Cap’s side after Tony went traitor on us?” said Sam, turning to Natasha. 

“I’m not on anyone’s side but my own.” Natasha answered. “I only do what I feel is right.” 

Tony groaned, “You sound just like Rogers.” 

“Steve might be in trouble, Sam. There’s a fair chance that he’s been arrested,” Natasha began. 

“What…? How?” Sam studied her for a moment, and then noticed Matt. “And who’s he?” 

“That’s Daredevil.” Tony shrugged, glancing back at Matt in the corner. 

“That’s Daredevil? Daredevil’s blind?” 

“Yes, I am.” Matt chimed in, growing weary of them discussing him as if he were also deaf. 

Sam eyed him, then Tony. “Nat, can we talk in private?” he asked, shifting nervously. He walked her to a separate corner of the massive room, distancing them out of earshot from everyone else. “Look, I don’t want to be within 100ft of Stark right now, and I don’t know anything about Daredevil other than that apparently he’s blind, and he _stalks the shit_ out of Hell’s Kitchen. Steve mentioned him briefly about two months ago, and now suddenly he’s involved in this? I think we should tread carefully here. What if this is some sort of setup? How do we know we can trust “Daredevil”, let alone Stark?” 

Before Natasha had a chance to answer, Matt responded from across the room. “You can trust me,” he stated, taking everyone by surprise. “Steve didn’t tell you about me because, well…” he tightened his shoulders uneasily and titled his head, his hands wrapped tightly around his walking stick. “We’re lovers.”

Sam was stunned momentarily, and then he charged in Matt’s direction. _“Bullshit.”_ he spat. 

“It’s true, actually,” Tony chimed in, an undeniable amusement in his voice. “I’ve got some footage, if you’d like to see. Juicy stuff. Kind of hot.”

Matt clenched his jaw, his chin jutting with annoyance. Still, he decided to ignore Tony, keeping the current conversation between Sam and him only. “It’s the truth,” he shrugged. If the man wanted to try to hit him then so be it. 

Natasha stepped forward and nodded, confirming the claim. “Steve pretty much told me the same, Sam.” 

What Matt heard then was silence, but he could imagine there was a look of lost confusion on Mr. Wilson’s face as his posture slowly slackened. “You… _you’re_ the new woman?” he asked dumbly. 

Matt shrugged again, this time awkwardly, his cheeks reddening. _“I-I guess…”_ he stammered. He couldn’t really be upset with Steve for either lying about his gender or, at least, failing to correct the misconception, considering he had had his own reservations. 

“Well now that we’ve settled the fact that the two of them have been going at it like little bunny rabbits, let’s discuss my plan to save Rogers, shall we?” Tony offered. 

“Wait, _you’re_ going to save Cap? After all the shit you put us through?” Sam retorted, quickly distracted from the previous jarring news. 

“No, no. Correction: I am going to give you the _means_ to save Rogers, I’m giving you a _chance_. Because I know that without my help, you don’t have one.”

“God, Tony, you’re so arrogant.” Natasha huffed. “We can do this without your help, we aren’t children.” 

“You know, none of this would even be an issue if you had just listened to Cap in the first place.” Sam stated, pointing a finger at Tony. 

“Newsflash, Birdman, Captain America isn’t always right,” responded Tony.

“Yeah well, he’s got a hell of a better track record than you.” Sam rebutted. “I’m all for going after Cap, but how do I know I can trust _you_? You had me locked up, remember?”

Matt dragged a hand through his hair, turning and walking away from the trio as they squabbled childishly. He also took a moment to loosen his tie, briefly noting to himself that this was exactly why he worked alone.

“I already told you, I didn’t know they were going to send you to _the Raft_!” Tony shouted.

“Where else would they put us?” Sam urged. 

“Come on, Tony, you can’t possibly be that naïve,” scoffed Natasha as well, “If you’re going to take a stance then at least be man enough to stand by it,” she said, and Sam punctuated her sentence with a vehement nod of agreement. 

_“Goddamnit!”_ Matt suddenly growled, striking the coffee table with his walking stick in one clamorous blow. The sound reverberated throughout the large room, effectively quieting the argument. “Will you three just stop it? Christ, you’re supposed to be Steve’s companions… am I the only one here who actually cares what happens to him?” 

The other three were momentarily stunned by this soft-spoken man’s sudden vehemence, and then Natasha spoke up. “Matt’s right. Steve needs our help; we have to put aside our petty quarrels and focus on the task at hand. He would do it for anyone of us, even you Tony.” 

Sam sighed, and then nodded. “Okay, Stark. What’s your plan?” 

“Well,” Tony started, waltzing into the middle of the room as if he were about to give a presentation. He flicked a hologram of what Matt could only assume were his plans into the air above their heads. “Our only chance is to intercept Rogers’ _transfer_ to The Raft. After that, it would be next to impossible to intervene. I did a little more digging and found that that arrest number, if it is Rogers, will be transported to the Raft tomorrow morning- 5am. Our one shot is to intercept with a Quinjet, temporarily scramble their radar and radio, and then secure the star spangled idiot. It will have to happen relatively quickly, though.”

“How quick are we talking?” asked Sam.

“Fifteen minutes, tops.” answered Tony. “Actually, better make it thirteen.” 

Sam exhaled with a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Okay… so what do you want me to do?” 

“Well Wilson, considering you’re the only one out of the three of you who can actually fly-“ Tony started, suddenly turning to Matt, “you can’t fly, can you?” Matt knew it was a joke, and so he chose not to answer. “No? Just thought I’d check,” said Tony. “Since you are the only one who can fly, your job will be to travel from the Quinjet to the helicopter, pry open the side door, and obtain Rogers.” 

“And I’m piloting the Quinjet,” Natasha figured aloud, pursing her lips as she visualized the plan. 

“Well, it sure as hell wouldn’t be young Matthew, here.” responded Tony. 

~~~

Foggy awoke with a start, an uncertain anxiety hanging at the back of his throat like an aftertaste. His first instinct was to check the clock; it was nearly 3am. He wasn’t sure what awoke him so abruptly, a careful listen to his apartment told him that there weren’t any obvious intruders. 

Then, “Hey Foggy,” came a hushed voice from the corner of his bedroom, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. He peered over at the corner opposite him and saw Matt, dressed up as Daredevil sans the mask. Foggy thanked god that Matt had had the foresight to remove it, almost certain he would have had some sort of cardiac episode otherwise. 

_“Jesus,”_ Foggy hissed, “Matt? What are you doing here?” He rubbed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm his thumping pulse. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah… kind of.” said Matt. He sat in the corner in silence, Foggy waiting patiently for him to provide some more of an explanation. “Look, I… I’m about to go do something, something kind of stupid. I just… I thought I owed it to you to let you know.” 

Foggy felt his stomach clench. If Matt hadn’t been considering his previous actions as “stupid”, then what in god’s name did he have planned next? “Okay…” he responded cautiously.

Matt dragged his knuckle along his lips, seemingly deep in thought. His eyes looked big and vacuous in the darkness, but then again they usually did. “They got Steve…” he finally relented in a whisper. “He’s been arrested, under the Sakovia Accords.” 

Foggy climbed out of bed, then, afraid of where Matt was going with this. Matt was obviously aware of Foggy’s concern. “I have to go after him, Foggy,” he stated with a tiny, sad grin. “He was helping me… without me, they might not have found him.” 

“Matt, listen,” started Foggy, stretching his hand forward slowly as if Matt might suddenly skitter off into the night like a stray cat. “Maybe we can do something else to help Steve out. You know, something legal. We’re professional lawyers, remember? With our own desks and everything.” 

Matt chewed on his bottom lip until it was pink and then shook his head softly. “It won’t help, Foggy. Not as long as this law exists. He’s too far in…he….” Matt stood abruptly. “He doesn’t deserve to go to jail in the first place.” 

“Matt…” Foggy pleaded again.

 _“I’m in love with him.”_ Matt whispered, biting his lip again, this time to force it from trembling. 

Foggy’s heart sank. “I know, buddy…” he relented. He walked over to Matt and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

For a minute they were both quiet, until Matt regained his composure. He cleared his throat. “I have to help him. This is the best shot I have. But… there’s a chance that it won’t work out. That I might end up in jail, too. I just want to let you know that I’m sorry, Foggy. Not for what I’m doing, but that I dragged you into this. All of it.”

Foggy didn’t know what to do or say. He wanted to yell at Matt, scold him for the 100th time, or, maybe he just wanted to hug him. Instead he just patted weakly at the man’s shoulder, offering, “You’re my best friend, Matt…”

Matt smiled briefly, warmly, and then turned back toward the window, pulling on his mask just before he disappeared off the fire escape. 

~~~

As it turned out, Tony Stark had a small Quinjet stored away just outside the city in a privately owned hangar. It wasn’t his own facility; he was paying massive amounts of cash to keep the hovering plane off the books. He didn’t offer much information, other than to let on that it had been meant for S.H.I.E.L.D., and that he had “neglected” to claim or report it to the government after the agency fell.

Natasha and Matt met Sam at the hangar, retrieving a taxi ride from a silent man that didn’t ask for any form of payment. His heartrate, Matt noted, was steady and calm, and he smelled of mineral oil, fine wool, and cat dander. This, of course, gave him no information. 

Sam was already there when they arrived, presumably having flown. Matt sensed that he was in the middle of an immense space in the hangar, and when Natasha’s heels clicked on the concrete below he utilized it as a sort of echolocation, filling in the blanks in his mind with the visual of soundwaves ricocheting off metal. He imagined there had to be at least three, maybe four, large steel machines in there with them. 

“This way, Matt.” Natasha called, and he followed the trails of her voice. Sam was just in from of him, but he began to slow, hanging back. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice hinting regretful, “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. Tony kind of brings out the worst in me…” 

“He seems to have that effect on most people,” Matt affirmed coolly. 

“I just want you to know… I don’t have a problem with… _you know_ …” Sam fought with his words self-consciously, and Matt gave a nod to indicate that he did understand. 

“Steve, he was talking about…well, you I guess, last time I saw him… I’ve never seen him so preoccupied by anything other than work. Well, that and Bucky, maybe…”

At the moment, this was not something that Matt wanted to hear, not when the outcome of their mission seemed so uncertain. Thinking about Steve, conjuring up the unique image Matt had painted of him in his mind by utilizing his scent and the feel of his body made Matt ache hollowly. “Thank you.” he responded softly, just before he pulled on his mask.

The ten-minute ride turned out to be on the hellish side for Matt; not that he was afraid of heights or airplanes. The Quinjet was smooth, save for a little turbulence, very different than riding on Steve’s motorcycle. His issue was that he couldn’t sense a thing, other than what was taking place in that small metal cabin.

Even in a car Matt could catch glimpses of information, sampling smells and sounds and electrical currents that were passing him by. The Quinjet was like a steel can, filled with the high-pitched buzzing of technology and the pull of electricity. And that was all he could hear, the shell of the plane so thick that it repelled any outside sound other than a faint pull of wind along the edges. 

He sat up front next to Natasha, and there was a whole panel of buttons surrounding his body that radiated a sickening voltage. It made him feel handicapped, really. He fought for the little control he had, focusing in instead on Natasha’s feather-light breath and Sam’s growling stomach.

It was a long ten minutes, but finally Natasha announced that she could see the helicopter on the radar, and that they would be in “striking distance” within 30 seconds. Matt wanted so badly to be able to hear whether or not Steve was in that helicopter, whether or not he was okay. Thick steel and the angry whir of helicopter blades refracted anything beyond the cabin, though, chopping up and disintegrating any would-be signs of what was happening some 25ft in front of them. He listened, anyways. 

Natasha had triggered Tony’s radar hack, then, and announced to the other two that it seemed to be successful. She also voiced, probably for Matt’s sake, that she was gently edging up behind the helicopter, hoping to give them as much of an upper hand as possible. 

Sam had put on his apparatus, announcing he was ready to go as his wings extended through the air with a sharp slice. Nobody said a word as Natasha opened the back hatch to the Quinjet and Sam leapt out, flying through the air and supposedly toward Steve. 

Matt pulled the mask off his face and tried to take a deep breath, then, scooping the damp locks of hair backward off of his forehead. _Why the hell was he even in the suit?_ He attempted to calm himself, the cold sweat an indication of his rampant anxiety. It wasn’t so much the stakes of the situation, though he did fear what might happen if it all went south. In actuality, his unbridled panic stemmed from the fact that, physically, he wasn’t doing a _thing_.

If he had someone to fight, something to punch, then he might have felt more at ease. But he could only wait, and he hated waiting on others to handle the situation. Especially when the outcome meant so much to him. Matt’s jaw was gritted tight, his eyes fixed intensely forward. He turned the mask in his gloved hands over and over, needing to find some way to expend his nervous energy. He hated being in the Quinjet, a simple passenger, an afterthought of the mission to save Steve. 

“It's going to be okay.” Natasha offered softly from beside him, obviously aware of his stress. 

“What time is it?” Matt asked, his tone strict. 

“5:12.” answered Natasha. “We still have five minutes.” 

Matt’s lips pursed as if he were disgusted by the whole situation. “I should be over there.” he said. 

To that, Natasha said nothing, leaving Matt to fill in the blanks. _And do what?_ He imagined she wanted to ask. Well, what could he have done? What the hell could he do in the air? He felt just about as useless up there as a child. 

Finally, with a little less than three minutes to go, Sam’s voice flickered over the radio. _“It’s Steve, but he’s unresponsive.”_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and the others successfully retrieve Steve, though he remains unconscious. Tony reluctantly agrees to run some tests.

“I didn’t mean for you to bring him here!” Shouted Tony as Sam and Matt counter-balanced Steve’s weight, dragging him from the landing pad and right into Tony’s living room. 

“Where else were we supposed to bring him?” Sam scoffed, adjusting his grip around Steve’s torso. 

“Don’t know. _Not here.”_

Matt cringed as his injured shoulder protested each labored movement, the muscle still far too weak to bear the brunt of Steve’s solid figure. He had re-donned his mask just before they made their escape, but now he felt that it smothered him. Sweat trickled uncomfortably down his temples and past the masks parameters, reflecting both his physical discomfort and unease over this whole foreign situation.

“Well it’s too late, Stark. He’s in here, and he’s heavy as hell.” Sam breathed. “Where should we put him?”

 _“Goddammit.”_ Tony growled to himself. “I don’t know, there. Over there.” 

“Right here? As in… here on the floor?” Sam responded incredulously. 

“Yeah, there’s fine.” Tony shrugged and flicked his hand, turning his back to them. 

Sam paused, and then muttered to Matt, “There’s a couch to your left, let’s just set him down over there.”

Truthfully, the mission had gone relatively smoothly, but that only seemed to make Matt all the warier. Sam had reported that there were only four men guarding Steve- easy enough for him to take out alone- and that the restraints had been simple enough to break. The largest setback, it seemed, was the unusual state they found their companion in. As far as they could tell, no one had even tailed them. Matt couldn’t be certain if their success was truly that suspicious, or if he had just grown so used to accumulating difficulties on his own outings. 

Either way, he shook off the unease for the time being, desperately trying to track Steve’s vitals as they lowered him onto Tony’s couch. Back in the Quinjet they had been hard to make out, though even then he felt that something was amiss. Steve’s vitals were usually so vibrant, loud and clear. Even at a resting rate they reverberated just a notch or two louder than the average man’s did. 

Now they were there, he could certainly hear them, but they just _weren’t right_. They were subdued, somehow. Weakened. Matt wasn’t really sure how to diagnose it; they didn’t seem to coincide with either injury nor illness. He pulled off his mask and let it fall to the ground, placing an ungloved hand gently on Steve’s chest as he knelt down beside the couch. 

“I thought your father’s serum made him immune to drugs?” Natasha recalled, mirroring Matt’s concern from across the room. “If he isn’t drugged then how did they get him in this state?” 

“Beats me,” answered Tony, lackadaisical as ever. Still, he casually crossed the room to where Matt knelt, looking down at Rogers with his hands in his pockets. He tried his best to exude nothing but indifference, but his heartbeat betrayed him. Even he found unease in Steve’s unconscious state, a nervous pulse making itself known to Matt alone. 

“Something’s wrong.” Matt finally spoke up, rising again to a standing position. “His vitals- they aren’t as clear as they usually are.”

“What do you mean?” asked Natasha, her boot heels echoing throughout the spacious room as she approached. 

Matt gave a vague shake of his head, bewildered as he continued to tune into the man’s pulse with an ear tilted downward. From beside him he could feel Tony’s eyes fixed on the side of his head, and he felt vulnerable and naked without his glasses. “I- I don’t know how to describe it… Steve’s heartrate, the sound of his breath, e-even the blood in his veins, it all just… sounds different than an average person’s. More defined, somehow. _Sharper_. Now…” he trailed off, shaking his head again and wiping the sweat from his brow. 

Matt fully expected some sort of sarcastic retort from the man beside him, but there was nothing; Tony only returned his gaze to his ex-companion on the sofa. The group took in what Matt said, the static of silence filtering through the room. “Interesting,” Tony finally intoned, though quietly to himself. He turned sharply and strode away.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious how they managed to counter your father’s work?” called Natasha after him.

Tony stopped, his hands still in his pockets. Silence once again permeated the sophisticated room, all eyes on Tony, save for Matt’s. It was clear that Tony considered the whole situation a dilemma, like an equation he couldn’t quite figure. To Matt, Tony’s pulse was steadily mounting, echoing louder and louder in his sensitive eardrums. _Tony was afraid_. Just as Matt was about to make a plea, beg Tony once again for his help, the man spoke up. 

“I’ll run some tests, maybe do an EKG.” Stark finally conceded, his voice now so much more tired and flimsy than it had been just minutes before. He exhaled, forcing it steady. 

“Thank you.” Matt responded quietly, rotating in Tony’s direction. “This… this isn’t easy for you… I get that.” 

Tony rubbed his face with a growl that was nearly inaudible, responding with an aggravated nod. Suddenly he turned back toward Matt. “That suit looks uncomfortable,” was his curt and unexpected reply, his sharp sarcasm snapping right back into place. “And like, _really tight_. Getting measured for that must have been awkward.”

And then he was in front of Matt, pinching an inch of fabric near his shoulder. _“Mhm,”_ Tony hummed as if he had just confirmed something to himself. Matt simply stood there, his lips wordlessly parted. 

“We’re about the same size I bet,” Stark continued coolly, suddenly bracing his fingertips at Matt’s waist as if he were taking quick measurements, his eyes roving up and down. 

“Perfect.” he purred, leaving Matt to wonder whether he was really assessing his size or… something else entirely. 

“Come along, young Matthew,” Tony finally announced, turning to exit the room. “We’ll find you something more comfortable to slip into.” 

~~~

For the most part, Tony’s place was sparse. Sleek and expensive, certainly, but also open and empty. _Stark_. Echoes traveled unhindered, ricocheting up and down hallways as if they owned the place. To Matt it was unsettling, as was the extensive amount of electricity necessary to keep the tower running. Electricity seemed to course through the air itself, and just like the device centered in Tony’s chest, it made Matt a little queasy with extended exposure. 

Even the room that they had moved Steve to seemed fairly empty, save for the very basics. A bed, a bedside table, a chair. And, of course, _more electricity_. Most likely the room functioned as a temporary stay for guests, or, perhaps, the occasional wayward vigilante seeking sanctuary. 

Matt sat perched forward in the chair next to the full-sized bed, attempting to tune into Steve alone and block out the irksome scent of Tony Stark on his borrowed clothing. Stark had presented him with a simple button-down shirt and pants, and Matt had to take his word for it that the shirt was white, the pants black. Neither Sam nor Natasha snickered when he re-emerged in his new getup, so there was at least that.

As Matt understood it, Steve remained in his street clothes, just as they had found him on the helicopter- shirt removed for the sake of blood tests and EKGs. Matt had remained there for hours as Stark ran his tests, all the while plugged into Steve like a living heart rate monitor. From down the hall he picked up the reverberation of Natasha’s boots, though he only gave her arrival half his attention. 

“How is he?” Natasha inquired, stopping in the doorway. 

“Same.” Responded Matt, unmoving. 

Natasha rested against the door frame then, crossing her arms. “Steve will be okay. I’ve seen him come out of worse.” She had tried to sound confident, though her heart wasn’t really in it. 

“I should have done more.” Matt relented, his voice a solemn whisper. Even as he said it, though, he failed to construct any new ideas on what more he could have done. Such an admission only frustrated him further, internal or not. 

“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have known that Steve was in trouble until it was too late.” Natasha countered, taking Matt’s confession as permission to cross the room and join him on the other side of Steve’s bed.

So he was the messenger boy, then. _Perfect_. A bitter smile strained Matt’s face as he recalled the nauseating distress he had experienced back on the Quinjet, the realization that his presence was entirely useless for Steve’s rescue. 

Natasha slowly approached the chair where Matt sat, stopping just at the arm, closer than he expected her to perch. “When you’re part of a collective you no longer have to play all the roles; you can rely on others for help. There’s no shame in that. Counting on others doesn’t make you weak, it only makes you stronger.” She insisted, placing a hand softly on Matt’s shoulder. 

Such ideals were nice, albeit a bit childish to Matt. Rely on others too much and you’re destined to fail- no one to catch you if there’s no one around. No, it was much safer to bolster your own strength, depend on yourself alone. The support of others should always be considered fleeting. 

“I know, there are days I don’t really believe it myself.” Nat confirmed aloud with a soft chuckle, moving to place herself on the corner of Steve’s bed, now facing Matt. “I had to unlearn some serious indoctrination in order to consider myself a true member of the team. No one made it easier than Steve, though. His stubbornness,” she smiled, “is just so believable that you can’t help but trust in him.”

Steve had confided something similar to Matt before, how he chose to put his faith in people. It seemed like such a risk, though, _naïve_ even. Certainly, it was one of the things that endeared him to the man most, though. He possessed both an unmalleable confidence and a near dangerous naiveté- and yet both traits managed to balance each other out into a perfect equilibrium. 

In fact, Matt nearly envied Steve for his harmonious sense of internal balance; he himself, it often felt, seemed to be unendingly off-kilter, forever struggling with the balance between dark and light, right and wrong. If Steve struggled with any of these notions, he never showed it. 

Someone else was approaching, then, and with them the tiresome hum of electricity. 

“Gather ‘round kids, results are in.” announced Tony as he made his entrance, Sam following shortly- though begrudgingly- behind. Matt’s ears perked at the announcement, though he didn’t move from Steve’s bedside. 

“Looks like someone out there has been cooking up a new multi-drug, and with Rogers’ most irritating habits in mind. I’m picking up a metabolic decelerator- definitely off the market, unregulated- and enough tranks to take down a horse. Or, at least, one sanctimonious super hero.” Tony detailed. 

“So what does that mean for Steve?” asked Natasha. 

“It means that someone has managed to counteract the serum’s affect on Rogers’ metabolic rate, successfully rendering him unconscious and stupid.”

“Government?” inquired Sam.

“Could be. Could be Third Party, could be Hydra for all I care. Can’t really say. There’s no patent out there for this particular combination, thus, no fingerprints. All very untested and mysterious.”

“Will he recover?” Matt finally spoke up, his eyes still fixed on the floor. “I mean… fully?”

“Probably.” Tony shrugged, after a brief moment’s pause. “See, one thing we know for certain about Cap here is that his cells regenerate at an amped up rate, approximately 2- _or is it 3, can’t remember_ \- times faster than an average human’s. That accounts for his immunity to disease and alcohol, his high metabolism, and the nifty way he heals a broken bone in a matter of weeks. His personality, unfortunately, remains unaffected. Ergo, even if he’s injected with a workaround, his immune system will eventually get the better of it, obliterating whatever foreign substance has managed to make its way into the path of the serum. At some point, as his body breaks down the metabolic decelerator, the serum will once again gain the upper hand.”

“How long will that take?” asked Sam.

“Can’t know for certain. Could be hours, could be a few days. See, Rogers here was my old man’s favorite experiment, but even he hadn’t discovered everything there was to learn about his pet project-“ 

“Hey, don’t- don’t call him that.” Matt intervened, finally pulling himself to a standing position. His voice came out quiet, though stern. 

“Sorry dear, you’ll have to be more specific. _favorite experiment_ or _pet project?_ ” Tony responded impishly. 

“Either one.” Matt countered, exhaustion seeping in.

In return Tony shrugged, strolling casually around the bed and toward Matt. “Like it or not Murdock, your boyfriend here is very much the product of an overly-ambitious and slightly convoluted science experiment. Before he met my father, Rogers greatest achievement was probably most punches in the face. In fact, he couldn’t have survived the ice all those years without the serum, let alone World War II. So- _in a way _\- you should be thanking my father for the chance of even meeting Cap here.” Tony lectured, a little too amused with himself for Matt’s liking. “Dad’s long gone, but I’m willing to accept on his behalf. You’re welcome.” He added for good measure, reaching out to pat Matt on the shoulder.__

____

____

“There’s still a man in there, Tony.” Responded Matt, lazily retracting his shoulder to dodge the contact. 

__

Tony groaned to himself, rolling his eyes. “St. Matthew? Lighten up a little. That whole Eagle Scout thing is cute at first, but it wears a little thin after a while. Anyways,” he bellowed, turning back to the rest of his audience, “ _TLDR_ , someone slipped Rogers a mega-roofie, so we’ll all be calling him Sleeping Beauty for the foreseeable future. Questions?” 

__

__“Can he stay here?” Matt asked, licking his lips nervously, praying for as simple of an answer from Tony as possible. Moving Steve would certainly be a chore, and, suppose some new side effect did make an appearance? What the hell would the two of them do on their own?_ _

__

__Tony turned swiftly back to Matt at the request, quietly studying him before he voiced his decision. “Alright Murdock, he can stay. But you’re going to owe me. This level of altruism isn’t really in my nature; I’m exhausted already.”_ _

__

__Despite the snark that dripped from his reply, there was suddenly something softer in his voice, as if a small piece inside of him had given way. For starters, it simply wasn’t true that Tony was unfamiliar with altruistic behavior, and it was clear to Matt that the man didn’t really believe that himself. Tony’s banter, Matt was swiftly realizing, was mainly a ruse, a protective veneer that shielded him from the crushing gaze of others. Bluster, pure and simple. That, he concluded, made it much easier to shrug off the unnecessarily excessive jokes, to let them roll right off his back. “Thank you.” He quietly replied._ _

__

__“But the second that Rogers recovers,” Tony added, regaining his flippant tenor, “you, you, and you- pointing at you now, Murdock - _out of here_. Got it? No stragglers. I’m trying to play by the book for once.”_ _

__

__“Understood.” Natasha agreed. Matt simply nodded._ _

__

__“I’ll do you one better,” Sam responded dryly from the corner, “I’m out now.” He made his way to Natasha, pulling her aside for a few brief words. “Let me know if anything changes with Cap,” he confided, his voice low and confessionary. “And, keep an eye on Stark. It’s gonna take a lot more than this to earn my trust again.” Natasha nodded the affirmative._ _

__

__Sam moved to exit the room then, though he stopped just before he reached the door. “…Matt,” he added almost regretfully, turning back and extending a hand in Matt’s direction. “You seem like a cool guy. It’s a shame we had to meet under these circumstances.”_ _

__

__Matt wasn’t entirely sure which aspect of “these circumstances” Sam considered less than ideal; the fact that Steve had been in danger, the fact that Matt turned out to be Steve’s surprise lover, or the fact that Tony Stark was involved in any way, but he was able to grasp the sentiment nonetheless. He responded with another firm nod._ _

__

__“Bye now, thanks for all the memories.” Tony called just before Sam disappeared around the door frame. “And then there were three. Anyone else? No? Shame. You know I already got a call from Secretary Ross. Wanted to know if I had any information on the interception of a certain meat-headed vigilante on his way to The Raft. I reminded him how good I’ve been, but it didn’t sound like he was quite buying it. Do you know how hard it is for a guy like me to play dumb?”_ _

__

__“Tony,” Matt started, dissecting his words carefully. He could sense Tony’s apprehension, the underlying buzz of anxiety that shaded his words. “I know that you’re trying to uphold the law here, and I respect that. Really, I do. Laws are important… but so are principles.” Matt confided gently, and he could hear Tony’s pulse spike anxiously as he spoke. “The thing is, what’s morally right and what’s legally right- the two don’t always coincide. By helping Steve, you’re doing the right thing, whether the laws agree or not.”_ _

__

__Tony was silent as he mulled over Matt’s words. “…you must be a bad lawyer.” He finally concluded._ _

__

__To Tony’s apparent surprise, a small smirk tugged at the corner of Matt’s mouth. “Or a really good one,” he countered with a shrug._ _

__

__“Touché, Murdock.” replied Tony, a slow nod of approval._ _

__

__~~~_ _

__

__It wasn’t until Matt was once again alone with Steve that he truly realized the extent of his own exhaustion. Within minutes it descended upon him like a veil, tugging at his alert posture and concentration, blurring his read of Steve’s vitals. He found it startling at first, unexpected and misplaced, until he finally did the math; at least 56 hours without sleep. Once that had been realized, well, that was that._ _

__

__His body, it seemed, only needed the slightest taste of recognition before it showcased the fatigue; first tugging at his eyelids, fraying his attention, and then weighing heavily on his arms and legs. Following swiftly thereafter was the dull throb of his shoulder, suddenly angered and gnawing as if the stress and fatigue alone had awoken the sleeping parasite still wedged against ligament and bone._ _

__

__Matt really couldn’t help but give in to the exhaustion it was so damn insistent, and he slowly sunk back into the armchair with a submissive sigh. His consciousness ebbed and flowed, allowing only small glimpses of Steve’s heart rate, the soft sound of his breath coming and going with waves of vigilance. With what felt like his last ounce of strength, he pushed himself up out of the chair and gingerly tucked himself alongside the larger man on the full-sized bed, relishing in his warm scent and the timber of his breath just before sleep overtook him._ _

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the long wait on this! The last chapter is already half way written, so I promise it won't be another two years before this is finally completed. Hope you enjoy!


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